


It's (Not) Aliens

by setmeatopthepyre



Category: Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency (TV 2016)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Case Fic, DGHDA Big Bang and Beginner Bang, DGHDA Big Bang and Beginner Bang 2018, Farah POV, Gen, Potential season 3, Swearing, aliens believe in you even if you don't believe in them, but it might be aliens, it's not canada, not much else to tag, tiny bit of angst sprinkled in but it's mostly just a fun mystery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-19
Updated: 2018-08-19
Packaged: 2019-06-29 18:57:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 21,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15735414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/setmeatopthepyre/pseuds/setmeatopthepyre
Summary: It’s a rare, quiet morning at the Agency, and Farah is enjoying it immensely when the door opens and in come two of the Rowdy 3. The others, including their van, have disappeared in a flash of blue light and now Gripps and Cross are turning to the only holistic detective they know to help find their family and bring them back.Meanwhile, it seems like the whole area has gone Area 51, because there’s strange lights in the sky, lightbulbs that won’t stop flickering, mysterious disappearances, and a sudden resurgence of crop circles. Tina & Hobbs investigate a missing cow while communicating with the Agency through Snapchat, Friedkin is up to something, Assistent is an alien conspiracist and he’s been talking to some ex-cop about soul-swapping..?My contribution to the DGHDA Big Bang!





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> [CLICK HERE to check out the art the amazing Marizetta made for my fic!](http://marizetta.tumblr.com/post/177195177545/its-big-bang-you-folks-a-bit-later-to-the)

DOGGOTSOUL: I saw your post

DOGGOTSOUL: the one about you needing help staying under the radar

DOGGOTSOUL: maybe don’t make public posts about needing to hide from a secret government agency

DOGGOTSOUL: that’s my advice

▲ATIVE: thanks, that’s helpful

▲ATIVE: no one believes me anyway, they all think I’m some conspiracy nut

DOGGOTSOUL: aren’t you?

DOGGOTSOUL: your other post was about aliens

▲ATIVE: the government agency thing is different ok

▲ATIVE: I WORKED there

▲ATIVE: it’s definitely real

DOGGOTSOUL: doing what? researching aliens?

▲ATIVE: I wish

▲ATIVE: and they’re real by the way

▲ATIVE: I have proof

▲ATIVE: weird things have been going on

DOGGOTSOUL: at least that we can agree on

▲ATIVE: have you seen them?

DOGGOTSOUL: aliens? no

DOGGOTSOUL: other things though

▲ATIVE: like what?

DOGGOTSOUL: you wouldn’t believe me

▲ATIVE: tell me and I’ll tell you why a secret government agency fired me

_DOGGOTSOUL is typing._

DOGGOTSOUL: fine.

 _DOGGOTSOUL is typing_.

DOGGOTSOUL: I was a cop before

▲ATIVE: you’re not with them are you?

DOGGOTSOUL: I don’t even know who the fuck ‘them’ are

_▲ATIVE is typing._

DOGGOTSOUL: as I was saying

DOGGOTSOUL: there was this case. a missing girl. and it was just

DOGGOTSOUL: it was a shitshow

_DOGGOTSOUL is typing._

DOGGOTSOUL:  I lost my partner during that case

▲ATIVE: lost as in couldn’t find or lost as in

DOGGOTSOUL: lost as in got shot with a crossbow

▲ATIVE: Oh

DOGGOTSOUL: and there was a dog. But the dog was the girl

DOGGOTSOUL: as in the girl’s soul had been swapped with the dog. the dog was the missing girl

_▲ATIVE is typing._

_▲ATIVE is typing._

▲ATIVE: what?

DOGGOTSOUL: see? you don’t believe me

 _▲ATIVE is typing_.

▲ATIVE: no I do

▲ATIVE: it’s just

▲ATIVE: what kind of dog?

DOGGOTSOUL: what the hell does that matter?

▲ATIVE: it doesn’t

▲ATIVE: it’s just

▲ATIVE: nevermind

▲ATIVE: so what happened?

DOGGOTSOUL: some detective and his friends switched her back into her body.

_▲ATIVE is typing._

▲ATIVE: Ok

DOGGOTSOUL: so tell me about how you got fired by a secret government agency that may or may not exist

▲ATIVE: it exists

▲ATIVE: I thought I’d be let in on all these cool secrets but it was just a bunch of people locked up and apparently they all had powers but there was only a few of them and they didn’t actually do anything

▲ATIVE: so it was kind of a let down and there was a lot of yelling

DOGGOTSOUL: right

▲ATIVE: anyway there was this thing where a bunch of knights attacked and killed a bunch of people, but their armor was made of some kind of special material that isn’t generally found on earth

▲ATIVE: and I survived all THAT and then I got fired when the armor went missing

DOGGOTSOUL: why you?

▲ATIVE: I think they were looking for a reason to fire me really

▲ATIVE: I may have sort of helped one of the subjects escape

▲ATIVE: maybe two of the subjects

▲ATIVE: I’m not sure

▲ATIVE: I didn’t really help them, more like didn’t stop them?

▲ATIVE: anyway I think they may come after me to finish the job as it were

DOGGOTSOUL: okay so

DOGGOTSOUL: it sounds to me like they don’t really know what they’re doing

DOGGOTSOUL: so you may be fine

DOGGOTSOUL: or you could always just fuck off to a nice tropical island like I did

▲ATIVE: I can’t leave here!

▲ATIVE: my hamster doesn’t travel well

 _DOGGOTSOUL has gone offline_.

 

**\-------**

 

"Wait," Amanda stared at Vogel. "You're telling me you guys have a _house_ ?" He shrugged at her with that bright smile of his, pompadour bouncing in the ocean breeze, and she peered at him, trying to figure out if this was another one of those times when the Rowdy 3 had a different interpretation of a very common concept, like how a 'shower' was actually a bucket of water over the head.  "You guys have a house. A _beach_ house."

"Don't sound so surprised, Drummer." Martin raised an eyebrow at her but she could tell he was also trying hard not to smile.

"You guys literally live in a van."

"It's a good van."

She turned to Gripps. "Yeah, it is, but that's why I didn't think--"

"Less talk more walk!" Cross called back at them, duffel bags bouncing in his grip as he bounded down the trail to the beach. She'd just have to see for herself, Amanda decided as she pulled at the strap of her own tattered black bag and made to follow.

-

So, maybe calling the wooden shack that was half-hidden between the trees where the beach began a _house_ was a little much, but Amanda was pleasantly surprised. It was cosy. Small, sure, but it was bigger than the inside of the van and that meant it was positively luxurious. When Gripps threw open the door, Amanda’s eyebrows crept up to hide behind her bangs. Gentle light came in through the cracks between the wooden boards and the inside of the small structure was surprisingly clean, albeit a bit sandy. “How did you guys find this place?” she asked, taking in the strings of seashells that hung from the ceiling.

“Find it?” said Gripps.

“Didn’t find it!” agreed Cross.

“We built it,” explained Martin.

“You...?” Amanda’s voice trailed off as her eyes widened. “What, the whole thing?”

“The whole thing,” Cross echoed, patting her shoulder as he stepped past her into the beach house. “Took a few years.”

“Two years,” Gripps corrected him. “And a half. Every summer.”

Amanda whistled between her teeth and traced a finger over the notches on the wall. “What’s this?” she asked, and Martin was beside her in a single stride, touching one of the notches as well before nodding.

“That? That’s Vogel.” he said, and Amanda’s eyebrows raised even further. Vogel, hearing his name, made his way over to stand against the wall, his hair lining up exactly with the tallest notch.

“Hey, hair’s the same!” Cross remarked, and when Amanda caught a glint from the corner of her eye, she realized he had already gotten a knife ready to carve another notch. He put it away again after flashing her a grin and winking conspiratorially.

“So you guys built this place when Vogel was little?”

“ _Littler_ ,” Gripps snickered, and Vogel elbowed him affectionately in the ribs before accepting a can of beer from Cross.

“That’s right,” said Martin, cracking open a can as well and handing it to Amanda before doing the same for Beast and then finally taking one for himself. “Shoulda’ seen the lil’ kid with a hammer,” he grinned. “He was somethin’.”

“Now we just get hammered!” Vogel declared, arms spread theatrically wide, spilling beer over his own wrist and the wooden floorboards, and Amanda snorted a laugh.

Once they'd given Amanda and Beast the tour they settled in, piling blankets from the van into a corner until it had become a nest of sorts. Then the boys vacated the shack so that Amanda and Beast could get changed into their swimming clothes. By the time they came outside, the other Rowdies had stripped down to their underwear and were already running down the beach into the waves, tripping each other up to get to the water first. Amanda followed them, watching Beast sprint for the waves faster than she thought possible, but hesitated by the water herself. She remembered beaches, remembered the shock of the water, remembered the attacks.

“Come on, ‘Manda!”

“You good, Drummer?”

“The water’s wet! It’s great!”

Amanda grinned at her friends -- her _family_ \-- and took a deep breath, then ran in after them.

-

By the time the sun was beginning to set, they were all very much soaked and very much exhausted. And sandy. Amanda muttered curses under her breath as she tried to dust the sand off of herself, but it was _everywhere_ and she was about ready to dive back into the water and live there forever when Gripps showed up with two buckets full of water for them to rinse off with. “Shower time!” he said, and Amanda sighed.

“You bunch of _savages_ ,” she said, shaking her head, but accepted the offer, muttering more curses as the water soaked her again. Martin made a show of shaking the sand out of a towel before handing it to her, and she blew him a kiss before ducking into the house to get changed.

They had a bonfire that night, piling it high with driftwood they'd found scattered along the beach, and the guys told stories of the times they'd spent at the house, picking the perfect location (“van stopped so we decided this was a good spot”), and what it was like to build it with little Vogel (“he was just leavin’ nails everywhere, it was a minefield”).

By the end of the night they retired one by one to the beach house. Vogel went first, then Beast and Martin. “You guys coming in soon?” asked Amanda as she got up from her spot between Cross and Gripps.

“Yeah,” nodded Gripps. “Just gonna watch the water. “ Amanda raised her eyebrows, looking from her friends to the dark waves and back.

“The water?”

“It's relaxing,” clarified Cross with a knowing nod. Amanda couldn't think of any time the boys had been particularly concerned with being relaxed before, but she didn't ask any further.

“Cool. Well, good night. “ Two arms around her waist pulled her in two directions for a hug and she laughed, disentangling herself from the two men before heading inside.

Gripps and Cross sat with their backs to the fire in companionable silence for who knew how long. _Gripps_. _Gripps_ _knows_ , Cross thought, because Gripps _always_ knew the time, but he didn't mention it. They just sat quietly, enjoying the rush of the waves, steady as breathing, the ebb and flow tugging at them even as they could sense their little family drifting to sleep in the distance. It was peaceful, in a way. As peaceful as that constant tug of the universe could be, at least. It was nice, either way. They could just sit, sipping their beers and watching. There was no need to talk.

“Did you see that?”

“See what?”

“That light.“ A pause.

“Blue light? Horizon?”

“That's the one.“

“There's another.“

“Huh.”

“Weird shit.“

“They're moving.“

“Lots of ‘em.”

“Moving _fast_.“

Cross jumped to his feet when a bright blue light flashed bright, blinding them, and faded again in seconds.  “What bonzo batshit was _that_?”

“Was over by the van,” Gripps frowned, getting to his feet as well.

“Get the others?” Cross asked.

“Martin knows,” said Gripps, turning towards the house. Sure enough, there was Martin, appearing in the doorway with his fingers at his lips to whistle--

_FLASH._


	2. Chapter One

Mornings at the detective agency were always a treat. Farah usually had the office all to herself, since both Dirk and Todd were practically useless before 10 AM on days they weren't on a case. A few lovely hours of peace and quiet before the inevitable chaos.

Sunlight was pouring into the office when Farah walked in and she relished its warmth for a moment, but not one moment more. The first step in the mornings was the _Mona check,_ as she personally called it. It was also the deciding factor on whether or not her day was going to start with a quick count of all the office furniture, supplies and... _any_ other objects, really, to figure out if there was anything that hadn't been there the night before, just to avoid accidentally throwing out Mona. Or sitting on Mona. Or -- god forbid -- _eating_ Mona, should she ever decide to turn into a cookie. Not that Farah would eat a cookie for breakfast, of course. It was important to start the day off with _actual_ food, not the assortment of sugary junk food that Dirk liked to gorge himself on whenever he could.

She braced herself, but ultimately breathed a sigh of relief. No panic today. The armchair was in its usual place. "Hi Mona," she mumbled as she made her way to the coffee machine. There was no reply. There never really was, so that was good. That was _expected_. It was good, Farah thought, a rare luxury even, for the day to start off as expected. No odd surprises. No weirdness. _Good_. This was, what, the sixth day in a row? As she made the first pot of coffee of the day, Farah couldn't help but feel like this semblance of a routine was due to be shattered sooner rather than later. No, she told herself firmly, maybe muttering slightly under her breath. _No_ . Worrying about what is to come is useless. _Enjoy the moment._

As she waited for the coffee to brew, Farah fetched the newspaper and turned on the small TV that sat on the counter in the office kitchen. She liked to keep up to date on the news, to have an idea of what was going on in the world, even if the important stuff only ever seemed to be announced when Dirk was in the general vicinity. It seemed to be a slow news day -- like _every_ day -- Farah noted as she poured herself a cup of coffee. There was some special on about _crop circles_ , for goodness’ sake. Farah turned off the device again, deciding her time was better spent leafing through the newspaper to see if anything jumped out at her.

Nothing.

Just the general filler articles. Puppy saved from drowning by elderly woman. Wealthy family still baffled by mystery of missing meteorite that had, according to them, been stolen from their private collection. There had been no signs of a break in, nothing else was missing, and the security cameras showed only static and a flash of light. For lack of other news, the media were trying to turn it into a big mystery. Dirk had taken one look at the story when it first broke and declared it insurance fraud.

The little bell by the door rang.

“Welcome to Dirk Gently’s Holistic Detective Agency, what can I--” Farah looked up and stopped mid-sentence, frowning at the two figures that had stepped into the bright office. They were grimy, grimier than anyone had any right to be, and they wore torn jeans and heavy boots and leather jackets and they looked _familiar_ , but Farah couldn’t quite put her finger on it.

The second the two men spotted her, they started talking. At least, Farah _thought_ they were talking, but it made no sense _at all_.

“You gotta _do something_ , man _\--_ ”

“There were _lights_ \--”

“All of ‘em, gone--”

“Van’s gone--”

“Drummer’s gone--”

“House ain’t gone.”

“Mm, nope, beach ain’t gone neither.”

“But the guys are gone!”

“ _Rainbow’s gone--”_

They were practically rapid fire yelling, trying to explain _something_ in the most confusing display of panic Farah had ever seen, and that was saying something, because Farah had seen Dirk, _and_ she had been there when Todd thought he’d lost his favourite t-shirt. She could only blink at them while they spoke, frowning as she tried to piece together their jumbled story, until she finally interrupted them.

“Wait, _wait_ \--” she squeezed her eyes shut, took a deep breath, opened them again. “ _What_ is going on? _Who_ are you? Lights? A.. a _van_? _Who are_ \--”

The two men fell silent, and it was almost eerie after their chaotic entrance. Then recognition hit her. She _knew_ these guys.

“The… at the Ridgely. _You_.” Farah’s eyes widened. “ _You’re the Rowdy 3.”_

Both men stared at her, frowning. They looked… disappointed. The tall, lanky one with the circle around his eye broke the silence with a sigh, bumped his shoulder into the other man and turned for the door. “ _Told_ you, man. They don’t know. British guy ain’t even here.”

“ _Wait_ ,” urged Farah, taking a step after them. “The British guy-- _Dirk_. Dirk is here. Is… wait, are you here for a case? Where’s Amanda? Isn’t she supposed to be with you? Todd said--”

“Toad’s here?”

Farah frowned at the shorter of the two men. “ _Yes_ , Todd’s…” she absently waved a hand in the general direction of the rest of the building. “Aren’t there supposed to be a bunch of you? _Where’s Amanda_?”

When the taller of the two turned around to face her again, Farah was taken aback by the concern in his features. “Drummer’s _gone_ , man,” he said. “That’s what we’re _saying_.”

Farah stared up at him, crossing her arms over her chest. “ _Gone?_ Gone _how_?”

“The blue light, weren’t you listening? There was a light and they went _poof_.”

Farah shook her head. “No, see, _listen_. People don’t just _disappear_. There has to be a logical, _rational_ explanation. Where did she go? Did she-- Oh no. No, did… _Blackwing?_ ”

Farah was fairly certain she heard a growl, and the taller of the two bared his teeth.  “Why you gotta bring up Blackwing, huh? It wasn’t them, don’t think,” he said.

“Nope, nuh-uh,” agreed the other. “Didn’t smell like ‘em _at all.”_

“Oh. Okay,” Farah nodded, her lips a tight line, observing them for a long moment before moving to the desk to pick up her notebook and a pen. “Right. Okay. Alright.” She put the pen to paper, thinking hard, before looking over at the two again. “So, let me get this straight. You were…?”

“At the beach,” said the tall one, and Farah made a note.

“Right. _Right_. And when was this?” she asked, reminding herself to breathe, to not let this entirely ridiculous situation and the fact that Amanda was _gone_ , was missing, overwhelm her. Todd was definitely going to freak out, and there was no saying what Dirk-- No. Breathe. She looked up in time to catch the taller man raise an eyebrow at his companion.

“Twenty-eight thousand three-hundred and twenty... _eight_ seconds,” the shorter man said.

Farah knew she was staring. Which she shouldn’t. Staring was rude. Staring made perfectly normal, average people feel like completely _insane_ , non-average people. Which these guys… _well_. She blinked, realizing she was still staring, and brought her pen down to the paper. “Alright. That’s… roughly eight hours?”

“Right,” he nodded.

“Right,” the tall man echoed.

“Right.” She made a note. “Right. And explain to me again what happened?” They did, and this time Farah stopped them occasionally for clarification, or to ask them to slow down, making notes all the while. “So let me get this straight,” said Farah, reviewing the scribbles on her notepad. “You were at the beach--” The two nodded. “--and the rest of the Rowdy 3, which is Amanda, the… rainbow?” They nodded again. “And the other two…”

“Martin and Vogel.”

“Right. Which means you two are…”

“I’m Gripps, he’s Cross.”

The tall one, Cross, nodded.

“Right,” said Farah. “So Amanda, rainbow -- are you sure her name is Rainbow? --, Martin and Vogel were in the house?”

Gripps and Cross nodded.

“The beach house.”

They nodded again.

“The beach house that _you own_.”

“You repeat things a lot,” said Gripps. Farah opened her mouth to retaliate, to explain that repetition wasn’t a bad thing -- not that he’d said that, of course, but it had been _implied_ \-- and that oftentimes repetition was important to guarantee that mistakes weren’t made, when the door at the back of the office opened.

“Hey, Farah, you have _got_ to look at this. Tina just _snapped_ me -- that’s what it’s called, isn’t it? That’s what she told me, anyway -- and she’s with Sherlock in some field or another. Something to do with a missing cow, terribly dull, if you ask me, but get this. She used a _filter_ , and now Sherlock has _bear ears_ . It’s the cutest, _look_! Oh _no_.” Dirk stopped the second he saw Cross and Gripps standing by the counter. His phone was still in his outstretched hand. “Oh no,” he repeated. “I thought you guys would leave me alone now that you have Amanda.”

“They’re not here for you, Dirk,” Farah began, then frowned. “Well, I mean, technically they _are_ , but not in… _that_ way. They’re here about a case.”

Dirk narrowed his eyes at the two, but inched closer, keeping Farah between him and the Rowdies as he made his way to the coffee machine. “A case?”

“The others, the rest of the Rowdy 3, they’re gone. Disappeared. Amanda’s _missing_ , Dirk.”

“Amanda’s missing?” the voice didn’t belong to Dirk, but came from behind them. When Farah turned, Todd was standing in the doorway, looking like he’d just rolled out of bed, hair sticking out at odd angles and flattened on one side.

“Todd--” Farah began.

“Amanda’s _missing?”_ he repeated, and his gaze turned stormy when it shifted to the two leather-clad men, who were looking a little forlorn in the middle of the office. “You assholes run off with my sister and now she’s _missing_?”

“Todd--”

Todd wasn’t listening. He’d strode over to the two Rowdies and was glaring up at the both of them, though they seemed fairly unfazed. As far as Farah was concerned, they mostly just looked… sad. A little lost. “You were supposed to look after her!” Todd continued, getting up in Gripps’ face as much as he could. Gripps just frowned down at him, unflinching even when Todd pushed hard at his chest. Cross did move, however, but only to pull Todd away in a manner that reminded Farah of a kitten being dragged away by the scruff of its neck.

“Drummer don't need looking after,” the taller Rowdy said as he let go of Todd’s shirt. “‘Specially not by _you_.”

Todd sputtered, and Farah thought for a moment he was having an attack. “You _lost_ her!” he finally choked out.

“Didn't _lose_ anyone, man. They _disappeared_. Poof, blue light from the sky. Not _lost_. Big difference,” Cross said, and Farah swore Todd was turning purple.

“ _Are you seriously arguing semantics with me right now?”_  he finally spewed.

“Let's… not argue about what we're arguing about right now,” said Dirk carefully, gently steering Todd away from Cross and Gripps and towards the extra mug of coffee that stood ready on the counter. “They've come to us for _help_ , Todd. No need to be rude.”

“I’ll be rude to whoever the hell I want!” Todd retorted, but he didn’t complain when Dirk gently pushed him into the nearest chair and handed him the mug. He sat there and furiously sipped his coffee.

“So,” Farah finally said, breaking the tense silence that followed, “as I was saying…”


	3. Chapter Two

After Farah had relayed everything the two Rowdies had told her, there was a long moment of silence in which she waited for Dirk to share his thoughts, because he _always_ had thoughts, even if they weren’t always right.

“So, if I understand this correctly,” Dirk began, setting down his cup of coffee to jab a finger in the direction of the Rowdies, “what _you’re_ saying is that you saw strange lights in the sky, and then two blue lights, and then everyone was gone from the house _and_ your van was gone?”

Gripps and Cross nodded. Gripps had drifted over to the armchair and was petting one of the armrests absentmindedly. Cross followed close behind, hovering near his -- friend? companion? Farah wasn’t sure exactly what the Rowdy 3 were, now that she thought about it -- at all times.

“I don’t want to be that guy, but...” said Todd slowly, surprising both Dirk and Farah. Todd had still been angrily glaring at the two newcomers just moments before. “I have to say it. This-- it’s aliens, right? It _has_ to be aliens.”

Farah stared at him. “Don’t be ridiculous, Todd. There’s no such thing.”

“We’ve traveled in _time_ , Farah. We’ve traveled between _dimensions_. How are aliens suddenly impossible?” Todd was incredulous.

“ _You_ have traveled in time and through dimensions,” Farah corrected him. “I haven’t. Besides, extraterrestrial life is a little beyond that.”

“Outta this world,” said Cross, eyebrows raised. “But it isn’t aliens.”

“What do _you_ know about things?” demanded Todd, stormy expression right back where it had been. Cross merely raised his eyebrows further, but Gripps nodded.

“Last time we thought it was aliens, it was weird magic shit. You were there,” he said, inclining his head at Todd first, then Dirk.

“Yeah,” Cross said, nodding seriously. “We thought that before, man. Turned out it was _Canada_.”

“A common mistake,” said Farah weakly, glad to have others on her side but not quite sure she followed their thought process.

“I don’t know,” Dirk said. “I don’t think the Canadians are behind this. Why would they be? Besides, Todd has a point. Strange lights in the sky and disappearances? _Classic_ UFO behaviour.”

“Classic UFO _stories_ , Dirk,” Farah said.

“Either way, we’re taking the case. I, for one, would _love_ to meet some aliens. Let’s turn those UFOs into IFOs, shall we?” Dirk hesitated for a second, then gave Cross a quick pat-pat on the shoulder before quickly stepping away again. “We’ll figure out payment, uh, later.”

“Whatever you say, boss,” said the tallest of the two Rowdies, and Farah thought Dirk was going to burst with happiness by the way he beamed.

“Alright, then!” said Dirk happily, hands on his hips and taking in their little gathering with a wide smile on his face. “Let’s go!”

A silence fell upon them all.

“Uhm,” said Farah. “ _Where_ are we going?”

Dirk stared at her. “Into town, of course. We were going to pick up some new light bulbs, _remember_? For the lights in the evidence room?”

“You mean the supply closet,” muttered Todd.

“The _evidence room_ , Todd. It’s where we keep the _evidence_.”

“Which is what exactly? Cleaning supplies?”

“ _Actually_ , we keep those in the--” tried Farah, but Dirk waved an impatient hand at her.

“For one, there’s the everbulb. Then there’s the air gun from the Cardenas house,” he said, counting on his fingers, but frowned when he extended a third finger.

“Right,” said Todd. “And apart from that?”

“Evidence is evidence, Todd. And evidence needs to be well lit. Not the blinky on-off-on-off thing the lights are doing now.”

 _“Anyway_ ,” said Farah, shooting Todd a look that told him to stop arguing. Todd frowned at her and rolled his eyes, but didn’t make any retorts. “Apparently we’re going into town.” She glanced at Cross and Gripps. “Do you, ah--”

“We’ll go!” Cross said, nodding quickly. “If, uh, what’s your…” he frowned at Dirk, thinking.

“...Dirk?” said Dirk. “You’ve been following me for _years_! How do you not know my name?”

“Do you know your coffee’s name?” retorted Cross, poking a finger at the mug Dirk was about to take a sip from.

“No, I… _what?_ ”

“ _Exactly_ ,” the taller man said with a knowing look. Dirk stared at him, then down at his coffee.

“Good, we’re all going, then,” said Farah, nodding resolutely. “We can all fit in the car.” The car, in this case, being the _amboolents_ that Francis Cardenas had given them -- or perhaps the correct term was _conjured up_ for them -- and which had become their main mode of transportation since it was roomy enough to transport them and anything else they might need for a case. 

“You’re saying I was just _food_ for you?” Dirk sputtered.

“I mean,” said Todd carefully, “that’s not really a surprise, is it? Didn’t you say they followed you around?”

If Dirk was expecting an answer or an apology from the two men, it seemed he would be waiting a long time. Both Cross and Gripps seemed unperturbed. Farah couldn’t help but appreciate their complete disinterest for the other two’s emotional outbursts. Which, if she thought about it, was rather ironic for two _emotion vampires_ , as she’d heard them described before.

They went outside and Farah headed for the driver’s side. “I call shotgun!” said Todd, making his way to the passenger’s side, and Dirk _squeaked_.

“Todd _,”_ he hissed, jogging after him. “ _Todd_ , would you-- would you _mind_ if perhaps I were to sit in the front with Farah?”

Todd laughed at him, already opening the door. “That’s not how it works, Dirk. I called _shotgun_ ,” he said, but his grin faded and made way for a frown when he caught Dirk’s expression. “Why?”

“It’s just,” said Dirk, peering over his shoulder at the two leather-clad men coming up behind them. “You know, the whole _feeding_ thing..?”

“Oh, _that_ ,” Todd said, leaning to look around Dirk at Cross and Gripps. “They don’t seem hungry right now, so shouldn’t you be fine?”

“I mean, I _suppose_ , but--”

“Let’s go, boss!” said Cross, opening one of the rear doors on the car and folding himself into the vehicle with surprising grace. Gripps got in after him, scooting through to the middle of the backseat before patting the seat next to him and looking at Dirk expectantly.

“Uhm,” said Dirk, looking to Todd. Todd shrugged at him, still holding the passenger’s side door open.

“Up to you,” he said. Dirk let out a heavy sigh, then got into the back, pressing himself as close to the door as was humanly possible and smiling weakly when Gripps grinned at him.

“We all ready?” asked Farah, looking into the rearview mirror. “Seat belts?” She was met with blank stares from the two Rowdies, and shook her head. “Right. Okay. Why not break the law first thing in the morning?” She muttered, but pulled into the street all the same.

-

The drive was short, and Dirk was particularly thankful for it. Cross and Gripps had spent the entire drive _smiling_ at him and it unsettled him deeply, because he couldn’t let go of the thing the taller of the two had said about the coffee, and then Dirk was thinking about the smile Todd got on his face when Dirk had made coffee for him, and, well… he felt particularly like a cup of coffee to a hungover Todd as he sat in the backseat, wondering about how hungry the two other men were. Unsurprisingly, he was the first one out of the car when Farah turned into a parking spot.

Speaking of coffee…

“How about some breakfast?” Dirk asked. The question appeared to be rhetorical, seeing as he was already on his way to the diner across the street.

“Dirk? Dirk! Where is he-- _oh,_ he’s doing that thing again, isn’t he?” Todd sighed, slamming the passenger side door shut and watching Dirk dodge oncoming traffic.

“You think it’s another hunch?” asked Farah, shutting her door and raising a hand to shield her eyes from the sun to watch the man in the bright yellow jacket as well.

“It’s _something_ ,” said Todd, and he shrugged at her before following Dirk’s example.

“Is he always this weird?” asked Gripps.

“It’s how he… works,” said Farah, gaze shifting away from Dirk and back to the two men. “He always figures it out, somehow. The case, that is. Whatever it is. Oddly enough, it _always_ tends to involve breakfast foods at some point,” she added thoughtfully, frowning into the distance for a moment longer before she locked the car and followed Dirk and Todd. The two members of the Rowdy three followed closely behind.

Dirk was already seated in a booth when Cross slammed the door shut behind him, startling most of the other customers. “I’ve ordered already,” said Dirk.

“What?” Todd asked, settling in opposite him in the booth. “You didn’t get us all waffles with extra whipped cream, did you? I know _you_ like that, but some of us prefer--”

“We’re having pancakes,” said Dirk simply, smiling at the waiter, who was setting down tall glasses while the others sat down. “Oh, and orange juice. Did you want coffee, Todd?”

“No, I’m--” said Todd, leaning forward and frowning slightly at Dirk. “--I’m fine. Is this a universe thing, or are you just being…”

“Being what, Todd?”

“...particularly weird? I’m sorry, that’s rude--”

“No, you’re right, this would be very odd behaviour, wouldn’t it? Not letting you order for yourself.”

“... _yeah_ ,” was all Todd could say, and Farah just shook her head. If there was one thing she had learned in the past few months of working with Dirk, it was that sometimes she just had to accept whatever was happening and hope it lead them to answers. It always did, _somehow_ , but even then it was hard, sometimes, to just… let things happen. _Chill out and just, go with the flow, Farah!_ Tina had said when Farah had told her about it, and it had become a bit of a mantra. Go with the flow. Even if it sounded very close to that _stream of creation_ stuff that Dirk had talked about before, the stuff that always got them into strange and generally uncomfortable situations.

Weren’t they ultimately always _fine_ , though? No need to worry. Just go with the flow. And today, going with the flow meant pancakes. That wasn’t so bad, was it? No, it wasn’t. It was all fine--

“And here’s your pancakes! Enjoy, everyone,” the waiter set down their plates -- five of them, each with pancakes and fruit piled high, and Farah was amazed to see that Dirk had actually gone for something involving actual _vitamins_ \-- and left them to it.

Farah had already taken a bite of her pancakes when she noticed the odd look on Todd’s face. He was staring down this plate, brows knitted together.“What is it?” she asked. “Todd? What’s wrong?”

He blinked at her, and it was like he was returning from somewhere far away in his mind. “It’s--” he shook his head. “It’s nothing. Just… this is Amanda’s _favorite_ food. I’d make it for dinner sometimes if our parents were out, and… _what the_ _hell?_ ”

Cross and Gripps were both suddenly on their feet, and Farah swore she could hear them _growl_. She rose to her feet as well, scanning the diner for whatever had set them off, but saw nothing.

“What the hell?” Todd repeated, clutching his fork as though it were a weapon.

 _“Blackwing,_ ” hissed Cross, baring his teeth to no one in particular as he looked around him.

Dirk turned pale, and Todd and Farah were on their feet too. “Where?” said Farah. “How do you know?”

“It’s the smell thing, isn’t it?” Dirk asked quietly, pressing himself into the seat as if he was hoping for it to swallow him whole. Cross and Gripps exchanged a look, and then Gripps moved towards the door, baring his teeth at the customers about to enter. They stepped back and quickly moved on, and Gripps swung open the door and stepped outside. The rest of them watched him through the window, all but holding their breaths.

Nothing happened.

Gripps was outside for a moment longer, looking off down the sidewalk with a frown, and Farah watched him between regular checks of the diner. After a few minutes, the man returned inside, shrugging at them as he came back to the booth.

“Well?” demanded Todd, looking ready to fight someone with his cutlery. “What happened?”

“No one there,” said Gripps, though Farah could see that he seemed tense, and the man definitely exchanged a look with Cross, who had an arm around his shoulder the second Gripps moved to stand beside him.

“But it was Blackwing, you’re _sure_ of that?” asked Farah, looking out the window once more. “They’re not usually this… ineffective.”

“Maybe they were just in the area?” tried Todd, though he didn’t look at all convinced.

“Ah… guys?” Dirk said, his voice higher than it usually was, and Farah -- as well as everyone else -- turned to look back at the detective who had been seated there moments before, but who was now standing and staring down at the table.

The very empty table.

The very empty table that was very, _very_ devoid of pancakes.

“It seems we’ve been… robbed?” said Dirk weakly.

“What-- what _happened_ ?” was all Farah could say, trying frantically to wrap her mind around how an entire table full of food could just disappear without a trace. Even the drinks were gone. Even the _cutlery_ was gone -- except for Todd’s. He was still brandishing his fork like a dagger. “Dirk, did you see _anything_?”

Dirk raised his hands, making a face. “No, he, you--” he gestured at Gripps, “you were doing the smell thing, outside, and I was trying very hard to disappear -- I _know_ it was Mona and, to an extent, Wakti who did it last time, but there was no harm in _trying_ \--”

“Were you seriously trying to disappear on us?” said Todd, eyebrows raised.

“Well _obviously_ I would’ve tried to disappear _with_ all of you, but if that had failed I’d come to save you from Blackwing, obviously--”

“Dirk. Todd. _Focus_ , please,” Farah said, pinching the bridge of her nose.

“Right. Well. Then--” Dirk frowned. “Then I must’ve blinked, or _something_ , because the next moment the table was empty, exactly as it is now.”

“But that’s…” Farah smoothed her hands over the table, then checked under it, looking for some kind of latch, or a… a button, or _something_. “ _Impossible,”_ she finally said, unable to find anything that could possibly explain the sudden disappearance of the entirety of their breakfast.

“I mean,” said Todd, “you said you were trying to disappear, Dirk. Could you have…”

“Are you asking me if I made the pancakes disappear with wishful thinking, Todd?”

“I mean, you have to admit, weirder things have happened,” Todd said, and Dirk seemed to consider it for a moment.

“Could it have been aliens?” the detective finally suggested, and Farah let out a groan.

“It’s _not_ aliens,” she said, trying to think of how they were going to explain the sudden disappearance of not just their food, but their plates and utensils too, to the waiter. Thankfully, a sudden influx of customers had the waiter too busy to notice. For now.

“They could’ve been hungry,” muttered Dirk, and Todd nodded, jabbing a finger in his direction.

“He’s right, you know. What if the aliens know we’re onto them, and so they’re… they’re…”

“ _Stealing our food_?” Farah let out a frustrated sigh and shook her head. “I can’t believe we’re even discussing this.” Her gaze caught that of the waiter, and his shifted to look at their table, and then he was frowning, and Farah made a split-second decision. “We have to go.”

“What?” said Todd, but he was already being bustled out of the booth by Dirk, and the Rowdies followed suit without question until they were all outside the diner and a safe distance away.  “Did we just dine and dash?”

“Did you dine?” asked Gripps.

“No, but --”

“Then it’s just a dash, yeah,” said Cross, and Gripps nodded knowingly at his friend.

-

“I _liked_ that diner,” Dirk said sadly as he held open the door to the hardware store. Cross gave him an over-enthusiastic slap on the back in sympathy. Dirk grimaced, but as far as Farah could tell he seemed a little less frightened of the two men already, though she had to wonder what would happen if they got hungry. They didn’t seem too bad now, but she _had_ seen them bust open a wall and feed on the holistic detective back at the Ridgely, so there was no telling. They certainly seemed a little more subdued than they had been then, and she couldn’t help the twinge of sadness in her gut at the way the two leather clad men glanced at the door as though expecting the rest of their… friends? to come in at any moment.

“Hey, Dirk, check this out!”

Turning the corner, Farah was suddenly blinded. Apparently Todd had found the part of the store that housed all the different lights -- and there were a _lot_ of them -- and they were all on, in various bright hues and odd shapes and sizes, and it was frankly overwhelming. Farah blinked hard and managed to make out Todd’s wide grin against the illuminated backdrop.

“Doesn’t this remind you of something, Dirk?”

Farah turned to face the detective, who let out a laugh.

“ _Yes!_ The death maze!”

He looked at Farah, and Farah stared back at him.

“The _Springsborough_ death maze, Farah? The one we -- Todd and I -- fell into? Didn’t we tell you about the room with the lightbulbs and the walls that moved? It was a _puzzle_ , we had to use the--”

“--the Everbulb, yes, you mentioned,” Farah said, weakly. “Was it really this… bright?”

“Brighter,” said Todd, nodding seriously, but looking far too happy about the whole situation. “It was terrifying.”

“You don’t… _look_ terrified,” she said carefully.

“Well, it isn’t terrifying _now_ ,” Dirk said, and he’d moved to remove light bulbs from boxes, comparing them to the one he’d procured from -- apparently -- his jacket pocket to find the right size. “I mean, we _survived_ , everything else is a piece of cake!”

“Could go for cake,” said Gripps, who appeared to be examining a light shaped like an anglerfish. Farah could only wonder why anyone would ever want an anglerfish light in their homes when Gripps reached out to touch it, and the light promptly sputtered into darkness.

“Maybe a pancake,” Cross replied, and he’d started taking lights from boxes as well, though he didn’t appear to have any specific reason to do so, since he proceeded to toss the boxes over his shoulder and leave the bulbs on the shelf.

“Maybe don’t--” Farah started, but had to duck aside to avoid a box in her direction.

“Found it!” Dirk declared triumphantly as he held aloft a lightbulb that looked identical to the one he’d taken from the Agency. “Anyone need anything else? No?” He pointedly ignored the way Gripps was swinging the mallet he’d just found and made his way to the cash register, where a rather unimpressed young woman took the crumpled wad of bills he handed her and wordlessly handed him a receipt. Dirk stood for a long moment with the bulb in one hand, receipt in the other, peering at her. “Don’t you have a-- a _box_ , or something? A _bag_ , maybe? Some kind of, some kind of carrying device?”

She shrugged at him. When he didn’t move to leave, she sighed heavily. “There’s some boxes over there.”

Dirk turned to look at the direction she was pointing, and noted the mess of boxes Cross had created at the end of the aisle. “Right,” he said. “I see. _Well_. I guess I’ll just… make do.” He smiled cheerfully, looked around him, grabbed a handful of flyers from the counter and scrunched them up to make a nest of sorts in his jacket pocket, then gently placed the lightbulb in it. “Right!” he said again, this time directed at his companions. “Let’s not bother this, ah, _kind_ lady any longer! Didn’t you say you wanted cake, uh…”

“Gripps,” said Gripps.

“Gripps,” repeated Dirk, his smile only fading a little when he made to put an arm around the man’s shoulders, then seemed to think the better of it and proceeded to just awkwardly pat him for a moment. “Right. Cake!”

Farah caught Todd’s eye, and Todd shrugged, and the rest of them followed Gripps and Dirk out the door, which clanged shut behind them.


	4. Chapter Three

After their quick detour by the bakery, the trip home was blessedly uneventful, and Farah found herself quite ready to make a big cup of coffee and think about the strange events of the day. Somehow two of the six-strong Rowdy 3 showing up unannounced had _not_ been the strangest thing to happen, and she wasn’t sure how she felt about that either. She locked the car and followed the rest into the Agency building, and froze.

Something was missing.

 _Again_.

At least this time it was something slightly more explainable, Farah reminded herself, frowning at the empty space where the armchair had stood for well over a week. At least this time it was Mona.

Todd had noticed too, because he’d thrown out his arms to block Gripps and Cross from moving further into the room. “ _Wait_. Mona check.”

“I don’t take checks,” muttered Cross, then frowned at how Dirk, Todd and Farah were going around the room, searching for any out-of-place objects. “What check?”

“ _Who_ check,” said Gripps. “They’re looking for Mona.”

“Why they gotta look, though?”

Gripps shrugged at the taller man, standing back with him. “Is this a game? Hide and go seek?”

“It’s not a game, we just need to make sure we know where Mona is,” Farah explained, peering into the cookie jar on the counter and trying to remember how many had been in there the last time she’d checked. Of course, anyone could have come in and taken a cookie, so maybe her count wasn’t correct and one of them _was_ Mona, there was just no telling with Dirk and Todd. _Especially_ Dirk, with his sweet tooth. she kept telling him they should keep a tally, just to be safe--

“Why? Mona’s there.”

Farah looked up to stare at Gripps, who was pointing at one of the magazines laying in the tiny waiting area that Dirk had insisted they put together -- not that they ever had waiting customers -- and now that he’d pointed it out, Farah couldn’t recall seeing that particular magazine before.

“How do you--” Dirk started, staring as well. Then he made a face. “Of _course_! You do the--” he wiggled his hands “--the magic thing.”

 _“Boys!”_  Suddenly the magazine was no longer a magazine, but was _Mona_ \-- well, Farah knew it had always been Mona, but now it was Mona in human form, a rare sight -- and she was enveloping Cross and Gripps in a warm embrace and they were smiling and hugging her back and all three of them looked very… _human_ . Which they were, Farah supposed, but the three of them were distinctly less human than, say, Dirk. No, _no_ , not _less_ human. Farah frowned. That was certainly the wrong way to put it. What she meant, she thought to herself, was that with Dirk, despite his strange habits, it was a whole lot easier to forget that he was a former prisoner of a government program for not-quite-psychics.

The Rowdy Three were, well, strange. _Slightly_ terrifying. Definitely more so than Dirk was.

Then again, Farah thought, it wasn’t very difficult to be more terrifying than Dirk Gently.

“Oh, I haven’t seen just two of you in…” Mona frowned, a finger tapping her chin as she surveyed the two Rowdies. “Years!” she finally declared with a smile. “Where are my other friends? Vogel? Martin? I don’t think I’ve _ever_ seen you without Martin!”

There was a long silence, in which Cross and Gripps exchanged looks and Mona’s bright smile faded slowly.

“Oh, did someone take them? Can I help? You know, I turned into a cannon to help Dirk and his friend not too long ago!” She paused. “I _think_. How long ago was it?”

“A few months,” said Farah, and Mona nodded seriously.

“Just a few months ago!”

“And he’s _not_ my friend,” said Dirk, eyes narrowed as he prodded the coffee maker, surrendering it to Todd when he stepped in to help.

“What happened to him, anyway?” he asked, turning the machine on. “The… lieutenant? With the… name?”

“ _Assistent_ ,” Dirk said, pronouncing the name with disgust. “Only _Blackwing_ would hire someone named _Assistent_.”

“That seems unfair,” said Farah. “It’s just a name, isn’t it?”

“A _ridiculous_ name,” he huffed, and Todd raised an eyebrow at him.

“I would’ve thought you’d be all _will of the universe_ about that, Dirk. Isn’t it just… interconnectedness or some shit that someone with a name like that would end up being an assistant?” he tried, and grinned when Dirk scowled at him.

“That’s the _thing_ , Todd. He wasn’t an _assistant_ , but a _lieutenant._ That’s just ridiculous. And, frankly? If you ask me? The _universe_ is ridiculous.”

There was a long moment in which Dirk seethed and the rest of them just stood in stunned silence. Well, most of them. Well, just Farah and Todd, really, as the Rowdies and Mona had extracted themselves from the conversation at one point to talk among themselves in a corner of the room, and the coffee maker was sputtering contentedly.

“How about,” Farah started, carefully, “I change that light bulb?”

Dirk frowned at her, then realization dawned. “The _light bulb_ , right!” He dug into his jacket pocket and procured the newly bought bulb, a handful of flyers fluttering to the floor as he did. “What an excellent idea, Farah. Very good thinking. _That’s_ how things get done, Todd. No oddly named lieutenants or assistants or what have you, just good plans from good people.”

“Right,” said Todd, shrugging as he poured out the first mug of coffee. “Farah, coffee?”

“Please,” she said, trying and failing to keep the exasperation out of her voice as she bent to pick up the escaped papers. A tidy workplace was a tidy mind, and she could definitely, _definitely_ use a tidy mind in times like these.

She made towards the kitchen counter and was about to chuck the loose papers in the trash on her way to the long-awaited cup of coffee when something caught her eye. “Huh.”

“Huh?” Todd stepped closer, craning his neck to read the rather amateurish flyer. Dirk joined him when neither Todd nor Farah seemed inclined to read the text aloud.

 _STRANGE LIGHTS_ _IN THE SKY?_ _  
__APPLIANCES MALFUNCTIONING?_ _  
__CROP CIRCLES?_  
OTHER UNEXPLAINED PHENOMENA?

_THE GOVERNMENT IS LYING TO YOU._

_I KNOW THE TRUTH._

Beneath the rather ominous message was a phone number, and nothing else.

“How odd,” said Dirk.

“I mean, that’s gotta be some kind of conspiracy nut, right?” said Todd slowly, glancing first at Farah and then at Dirk. “Right? _Or_ …”

“ _Or_ they know what happened to the Rowdy 3 and your sister,” Dirk said, eyes widening and phone already in hand. “It’s worth a try!”

 

\-------

 

Amanda blinked slowly. Her head felt… odd. Fuzzy, like a hangover without the headache but with the disorienting unbalanced sort of feeling. Had she been drugged? No, that was impossible. She’d been at the beach, with the Rowdy 3, and they’d swam that day, and okay, she _had_ had a couple of beers, and maybe she should’ve worn a hat or stuck to the shade a little more but she’d felt completely fine when she’d gone to sleep.

That’s right, she’d gone to sleep. In the beach house.

So why was she in the van?

And why did she smell pancakes?

She sat up slowly, groaning as the movement made her head spin, and found herself staring into the faces of Martin and Vogel, except--

“What the _fuck_?”

“Easy there, drummer,” Martin said, and his voice was oddly quiet. _Hesitant_ . That wasn’t how his voice was supposed to sound, but that barely registered because his eyes were _glowing_ \-- his and Vogel’s, both.

“Uhm,” Amanda said, scooting back until she was leaning against the wall of the van. “What’s going on with your eyes?”

“The blue shit?” asked Vogel, and he nodded seriously.

“ _Yeah_ ,” Amanda said weakly. “ _Glowy_ blue shit. What the _fuck_?” She looked around her, and spotted a bright splash of colour where Beast was curled up. “Is she okay? Hey, where are Gripps and Cross?”

Vogel and Martin exchanged pained looks.

“Yeah,” Martin said. “She’s sleepin’, like you were just a few minutes ago. We, ah…” he frowned. “We don’t know where Gripps an’ Cross are.”

“ _No,”_ breathed Amanda. “Shit. What happened? How did I get here? Did-- Oh, shit, did _Blackwing_..?”

Vogel snarled, and Martin put an arm around his shoulder. “It wasn’t them, we don’t think,” he said. “It’s, well… Y’might wanna take a look, drummer girl.”

Amanda frowned at him, pushing herself up off the seat to move to the window. Her eyes widened.

“Where the fuck… _Wait_ , is that--?”


	5. Chapter Four

Farah had been worried about finding the two leather-clad Rowdies a place to sleep, but they had insisted they would be fine sleeping in the office if they could just get a blanket or two. Sure enough, when Farah entered the office the next morning, the two were sprawled out on a large mattress that she was very sure hadn’t been there before, snoring gently, limbs tangled together in a rather -- there was no other word for it -- _cute_ display. Gripps had an arm around Cross, who had wrapped both arms around the other man and had his face buried in Gripps’ side.

They really seemed a lot less intimidating like this, Farah thought. Though she had noticed that reducing the Rowdy 3 from four -- although it was six now, wasn’t it? -- down to two certainly seemed to take an edge off the chaotic destruction they tended to bring with them.

 _Mona_.

Farah smiled a small smile to herself as she made for the coffee machine. Of _course_ , the mattress was Mona. She wondered what would happen if Mona got bored with her current state before the two men woke up and was glad for the low rumble of the coffee machine to hide her snort of laughter.

At least, she thought it did.

“What’s so funny?” a voice from the mattress mumbled sleepily, and Farah turned to see Cross had opened one eye and was squinting at her.

“Laughter’s the best medicine,” Gripps sighed, his eyes still closed, and Cross hummed in apparent agreement, burrowing his face once more into the other man’s side.

They didn’t seem to actually be waiting for a reply, so Farah didn’t try to explain herself. Instead, she just poured herself a mug of coffee, then hesitated, mug in hand.

“Do you--” she started, directing her query at the once-more snoring heap of blankets. “Do you want coffee?”

There was a sudden yelp and a muffled _oof_ as a mouse skittered away from where the mattress had been, only to turn into Mona mid-step. “Oh, good morning, Farah! I’d like a cup of coffee, please!” she beamed.

“Uhm,” said Farah, blinking the other woman. “Right, yes, of course. Let me grab you a cup.” As she reached for the drying rack, she glanced past Mona at the two men who were scrambling to their feet. “How about you two?”

Cross shook his head, which Farah assumed to be an answer, though it could’ve also just been to get the greasy strands out of his face. She raised her eyebrows at Gripps, and he shook his head as well. “Nah, that’s for Drummer.”

Those words seemed to bring a frown to both of the Rowdies’ faces, and Farah quickly busied herself with pouring Mona a cup of coffee.  “Do you have sugar?” Mona asked sweetly after taking a sip, but she’d found the sugar bowl before Farah had a chance to answer, though she’d all but missed the question because an odd buzzing had suddenly filled the room.

“Who’s phone is that?” she muttered, making for the counter to find Dirk’s phone. Notification after notification was popping up, indicating that he’d received a new _snap_ , and another, and another, from a user who was apparently named _ative_ , but with an odd yellow triangle emoji at the start of it.

Strange.

The only people Dirk ever talked about exchanging snaps with were Tina, Amanda, and, through Tina, Hobbs. So who was _ative_?

Of course, Farah could never look at his messages without Dirk knowing. That would be snooping, and that wasn’t who she was. Even if she did know the security pattern Dirk used to lock his phone because he never, ever cleaned the screen, which was disgusting in and of itself, and the security pattern was very clearly visible if you tilted the phone a certain way.

“Ooh, what’s that?” Farah nearly jumped because Mona was suddenly beside her and lifting the phone out of her hands before Farah had time to react.

“Hey,” she said as Mona unlocked the phone. “That’s Dirk’s phone.” She could hear how unconvincing she sounded, but couldn’t help but lean over to get a closer look at the photo Mona was opening. If Dirk was exchanging photos with a stranger, there was really no saying what they could be. Wasn’t it a matter of security to check what their detective was getting into?

A hamster.

It was a hamster. A grey, fuzzy looking lump with the caption _Meet Charlie_.

 _I thought Charlie was a he when I got her but she’s a she_ said the second picture, another, almost identical photo of the very same hamster.

 _She really likes sunflower seeds_ , read the third, similar to the first two but a little more blurry.

The fourth was a video, a little shaky, with some filter superimposed on it that caused little hearts to float across the screen, and it had no caption. The only sound on the video was the squeak of the hamster wheel that Charlie the hamster was running in for the full fifteen seconds the video lasted.

“ _Excuse_ me, that’s _private_!”

“Morning, boss,” Cross muttered, rubbing his eyes. Gripps gave a little wave as Dirk stood in the doorway, hands planted firmly on his hips.

 _“Farah_ , I’d _never_ , are you _snooping?_ ”

Farah opened her mouth to react, but Mona interrupted her with a cheerful _hi, Dirk!_ , and Farah glanced down at the phone that Mona was still holding to catch the last few seconds of another video, this one of Charlie sleeping soundly in a pile of shredded newspaper.

Dirk strode over to them. “You’re watching my snaps! How am I supposed to watch them now? They’re _gone_ after you watch them! Poof! Disappeared!”

“Don’t worry,” Farah tried. “They were just pictures of a hamster.” Dirk stared at her for a long moment, then looked back at the phone, still in Mona’s hand, and then back at Farah.

“I missed _hamster pictures_?”

“Oh, it’s okay, Dirk,” Mona said soothingly, turning off the phone and handing it over to the sputtering detective, who accepted it mutely. “I’m sure if you ask nicely, tent emoji person will send you more pictures of Charlie.”

Dirk looked down at the phone in his hand and then back up at the two of them. “Who’s Charlie?”

Mona smiled at him, patting his arm before picking up her coffee and moving over to sit with Cross and Gripps, who’d settled down on the floor by the couch. “The hamster, of course.”

 

\-------

 

The backstage of reality was not where Amanda had expected to wake up.

She also hadn’t expected the place to be cluttered with a wide variety of random crap.

Nor had she expected to be greeted enthusiastically by that asshole military dumbass, the one who’d threatened her with a gun to her head, when she’d left the van. He looked different than he had back then. His eyes were _red_. Not stoned red or didn’t sleep enough red. Full-on _red_ , which had surprised Amanda enough for her immediate response to be a heartfelt _what the fuck_.

“Hi,” the man said, his wide smile faltering a little and leaving him looking more like a very confused and possibly possessed puppy. “Do you remember me?”

Amanda didn’t have time to react before Martin and Vogel flew past her. Martin got up in the man’s face, nose to nose with him, causing the man to back away from him, stumbling into Vogel. Wedged between the two Rowdies, he seemed to attempt to make himself as small as possible while simultaneously trying on a friendly smile, which was met only with a growl from Martin.

“It’s the _guy_ , ‘Manda!” Vogel yelled, and the man cringed away from his loud voice. “Do you want us to stomp him? Smash him up?”

“Fed on you once, boy,” Martin snarled. “Do I gotta do it again?”

The man paled. “No! No, uh, Martin? _Please_ . I'd-- _prefer_ if you… don't?” He struggled to move, but Vogel held him back, so he could only nod vaguely with his head. “I, uh, got you breakfast. You eat food, right? Uhm, not _me_ food. You-- Barts...Brotz... _girl_? You eat food? I got you pancakes!”

“What are you doing here?” Amanda asked, and Martin snarled at the man once more before straightening. Vogel had him by the arms, but didn't seem keen to let him go just yet. Beast had joined them as well, but kept her distance.

“I, uh…” the man looked puzzled, which, Amanda noted, was a bit of a theme. “I guess I… live… here?”

She stared at him. “You _what_? You can't live here, it's--" she gestured at the sky, or whatever the swirling blue above and beyond them was. “-- _the backstage of reality_. You can't live here!”

The man puffed out his chest as much as he could with Vogel still holding his arms behind him, a situation he seemed to have resigned himself to. “Yeah, well,” he started, frowning. “There was this thing at Blackwing, and then this _knight_ stabbed me, and then Project Alpha -- or, or, _Ken_ , no, supervisor Adams? _Anyway_ \-- he, he _kicked_ me into this _portal_ and I was supposed to go to freaking _wendigo_ or wherever but I ended up here.” He beamed at Amanda, and then at Martin, and then back at Amanda, and then over his shoulder at Vogel for good measure. “But it’s _okay!_ ” he finally said, seeming a little exasperated with their confused expressions. “Because I _get it_ now!”

“Right,” said Amanda. “And who are you again?”

That seemed to dampen his spirits some. “I’m... I’m _Hugo_. Hugo Friedkin. You don’t know me?”

“I know you’re the asshole who had a _gun_ to my head, but I didn’t think to ask your name. _Hugo_.”

“Right,” Hugo nodded slowly. “That thing.”

“So,” Amanda dragged a hand across her face. She was fine. This was fine. She was just in the backstage of reality -- except actually, _physically_ there, no out of body shit -- with a Blackwing agent, and she hoped that would be the extent of the surprises for the day. “Is there anyone else here? Besides us?”

Friedkin blinked at her. “I mean, it’s just been me and Cinnamon.”

“ _Cinnamon?_ Who the hell is _Cinnamon_?

A low growl called Amanda’s attention back to Martin. His eyes, like Vogel’s, were still glowing blue, the light trailing when they moved their heads, bright against the darkness and mirroring the swirling blue lights above them.

Friedkin muttered something in reply, looking vaguely embarrassed, which was an odd look on him, what with the whole red-eyes thing.

“ _What_?” she bit at him, and he looked vaguely offended, but said nothing. “You said it’s just you and cinnamon here. Who is _Cinnamon_? Or do you mean -- I mean, I know you’re not the _sharpest_ tool in the fucking shed but -- the… the spice?”

“No, no, no,” the man said, laughing uncomfortably. “No, no, _Cinnamon_. She’s, uh, she’s around here somewhere.”

“Cinnamon’s a _she_?”

“Yeah. I mean, I think -- yeah. That’s what cows are, right? _Shes_?” He smiled, and it would’ve been an attractive smile if it hadn’t belonged to someone that made her skin crawl.

“Did you just say Cinnamon is a _cow_? Literal or figurative, because if you’re gonna be a sexist asshole--”

“Literal or figura--?” He looked at her with a confused expression, but then something seemed to click into place. “A real cow! Real cow!”

“Good,” Amanda said, frowning at him, and he flashed another hesitant smile. “Wait, what the fuck? A cow? Here?”

“Yeah,” he beamed, and glanced around him. “She’s around here, somewhere.”


	6. Chapter Five

“So,” said Amanda. “How do we get out of here?”

“Oh, you can’t,” Friedkin said matter-of-factly, making an odd squeaking noise when Vogel tightened his grip and Martin stepped in closer again.

“Whatcha mean we _can’t_ , boy?” Martin said, staring Hugo down over his glasses, and Amanda took a second or two to enjoy how the man in the suit paled.

“I-I mean, you _can_ , of course, but, uhm, you just have to leave a few things here?”

“What kinda things?” growled Martin.

“The wand,” Hugo said quickly. “And--”

“What wand?” Vogel cut in, and Amanda realized only Cross and Gripps had seen the wand before she’d stuffed it in a duffel bag and promptly forgotten about it.

Sure, maybe she should’ve thought about the _actual magic wand_ she’d taken, but after the whole Wendimoor thing they’d gotten tangled up in their search for other former Blackwing subjects, and that had kind of taken priority. Until the beach house.

“Oh my _god_ , please tell me you have the wand!” Hugo sighed, sagging against Vogel. “I thought I saw it in the van--”

Martin growled. “When were you in the van?”

“I wasn’t-- I wasn’t _in_ the van, I just saw-- I mean, I can _see things_ from here.” By the odd flailing of his hands, it looked like Hugo was trying to gesture around him, though he was impeded greatly by Vogel’s hold on him. “I mean, that’s how I got you guys here, of _course_.”

That made sense, one way or another, Amanda thought. She hadn’t exactly spent a lot of time in the backstage of reality, just the one time with Todd, but if her theory was correct it connected, well, _everything_ , and if it was powering her visions somehow, it wasn’t too unreasonable to assume you could see other places _from_ it.

Though she hadn’t really guessed Hugo Friedkin to be quite, well, smart enough to figure that out.

Wait.

 _Wait_.

Did he say--?

“ _You_ brought us here?”

Amanda could easily recall the extreme effort it had cost her to pull Cross, Gripps and Martin from Blackwing, and she hadn’t even been able to do so alone.

“Uh. _Duh_ ,” Friedkin scoffed, and Amanda had a sudden, intense urge to punch him in the face. She suppressed it, barely.

 _For now_.

“I just, uh, the blue swirly stuff? Yeah, it showed me what to do, so I did it, and I grabbed your van, ‘cause that’s where the wand was, and I grabbed you, well, not really _you_ , I don’t really need you,” he seemed to come to a sudden realisation. “Yeah, you three can go.”

Amanda frowned, glancing around them. “There are four of us.”

“Yeah, _duh_ ,” Friedkin said again, and this time he rolled his eyes for good measure. “You three can go, just the, uh, _that_ needs to stay,” he said, nodding in the direction of Beast, who was just circling around from Martin to Vogel, and stopped dead in her tracks.

“ _That?_ _That_ is Beast, you asshole, and she’s not a _that_.”

“Yeah, whatever, but if you leave her here you can go. Oh, and the wand. Of course,” he beamed.

“We’re not leaving Rainbow behind, man, who the hell do you think you are?” Vogel said, looking disgusted.

“ _None_ of us get left behind, y’hear me?” Martin hissed, eyes flaring a brighter blue, and Amanda swore she could see Hugo pale a little more.

“Yeah, well, she can’t go back, so.”

“ _Why_?”

Hugo made an exasperated noise. “‘Cause, like, the _universe_. Duh.”

“You’re gonna have to give us a little more information, _Hugo_. Bein’ pulled across dimensions gets Vogel and I _hungry_ ,” Martin snarled, barely an inch from Hugo’s face. “Why can’t our rainbow monster go back?”

“She, uh,” Friedkin whimpered. “She doesn’t _belong_ …” He made a pained noise when Vogel pulled at his arms, then fell completely still, head rolling back, eyes staring blankly into the swirling blue above them.

“Did we break him, boss?” Vogel said carefully, shaking Friedkin slightly, but Amanda had no time to answer because Friedkin straightened again, suddenly a whole lot more composed.

“The universe is broken,” he said. “Dimensional anomalies create tears in the fabric of reality and must be removed.”

“Who the fuck are you to decide that?” said Amanda, but Friedkin didn’t respond, only stared blankly through her, and it sent a shiver up her spine. “Aren’t we anomalies just _being_ here? Aren’t you an anomaly?”

“Everything is connected,” Friedkin said. “Nothing is also connected.”

Nothing.

 _Everything_.

The backstage of reality was both, somehow. A void and everything at once. The connection. Nothing was an anomaly, because everything was.

 _Shit_ , thought Amanda. It made sense.

But they couldn’t just leave Beast here. She was one of the Rowdy 3, and Amanda sure as hell wasn’t going to leave her behind with _Hugo Friedkin_ , Blackwing agent and apparent spokesperson for the fucking _universe_. How the hell did that even happen?

Her thoughts were interrupted by a _moo_ , and from out of the distant darkness a large form emerged. Shaggy brown fur, long curved horns and a pink nose.

A cow. It was a _cow_. In the backstage of reality.

“There she is! Cinnamon!”

Amanda turned to find Friedkin apparently back to his normal self, beaming at the cow that was slowly approaching them. Beast chirped and immediately made a run for the cow, who seemed perfectly content to let Beast wrap her arms around her neck in a hug. Cinnamon just snuffled and _moo_ ’d contentedly.

“Are you hungry, Cinnamon?” Friedkin cooed, the creepy _broken universe_ spiel forgotten, though Amanda wondered if he’d been conscious for it at all. “Do I need to get you some more grass?”

“You’re cuckoo bananas, man,” Vogel said, letting go of Friedkin’s arms and taking a step back, confusion plain on his face. “There’s no grass here!”

“I _know_ that,” Friedkin said exasperatedly. “I grab it through the blue swirly stuff, obviously.”

“ _How_?” Amanda couldn’t keep the exasperation from her voice, though she hardly felt the need to be polite to _Hugo_ fucking _Friedkin_. “You keep saying you bring things here, but _how_? I tried that in Wakti’s hut and…” she bit back the rest of that sentence, choosing instead to glare. There was no way she was going to admit to a Blackwing agent that he might be better at this whole witchakookoo shit than she was. “ _How_?”

“It’s…” Hugo smiled uncomfortably. “It’s _easy_.”

“It’s not fucking _easy_ , you asshole! I fucking _tried_.”

A hand curled around her arm, and Martin leaned in to speak to her. “Drummer, you didn’t try _here_ , though, did ya? It was through that watery bullshit, maybe this is different, yeah?”

She regarded him for a moment, only now noticing that the glowing blue light in his eyes came from the mandelbrot shapes that Friedkin had, too. And, she guessed, she did as well. Todd had had them when she’d pulled them out of their bodies. Odd.

Amanda turned her attention back to the still awkwardly smiling Friedkin. “Show me.”

 

\-------  


“Are you sure we can trust this... whoever it is? The… yellow triangle person?” Farah asked warily as she gently guided the amboolents into a parking space that was only slightly too short for it.

“I’m sure,” Dirk said brightly. “Mostly sure. Like five out of ten sure.”

“That’s not very sure,” Gripps said, sticking his head between front seats so that he was brushing against Dirk’s shoulder. Dirk nearly jumped at the proximity of his voice, but managed to keep the bright expression glued to his face.

Farah was… a little worried about their resident detective. Dirk seemed _mostly_ fine around the two members of the Rowdy 3, but there was still obviously some nervousness there. She couldn’t blame him that much, though she was quickly beginning to trust the two leather clad men despite their rough appearance. If Amanda trusted them, she could.

Even if Todd might have a different opinion on the matter.

Dirk’s phone buzzed, and he fished it out of his pocket, and Farah glanced over to see a new snap from Tina appear. It was Sherlock Hobbs, standing a little awkwardly in what looked to be an honest-to-God crop circle. _beam me up scotty_ , the caption read.

“Yes, well.” Dirk put his phone back into his pocket and straightened in his seat. “No one else seems to have any information about these aliens--”

“They’re not aliens,” mumbled Cross, but Dirk ignored him.

“--so we’ll just have to make do, won’t we? Besides, how dangerous can someone who has a _hamster_ be. It’s not like it’s going to turn out to be Blackwing, or anything. First of all, they wouldn’t share _any_ knowledge about aliens, and second, I’ve _never_ seen a hamster in my time there. Did you?” He peered over his shoulder, and both Gripps and Cross shook their heads.

“No hamsters but us,” Cross said, and judging by the look Todd shot her in the rearview mirror, Farah knew he felt the same pang of unease at the realisation that they were the only two in the car who hadn’t been locked up by a shadowy government organisation.

Yet.

Owning a holistic detective agency meant anything could happen, though Farah very much hoped that particular situation wouldn’t.

A movement in the window of the house they were parked outside caught Farah’s eye. It wasn’t much, just a rustling of the heavy blackout curtain that obscured the interior of the house from view, but there was definitely someone home, and watching them.

“What is it, Farah?” asked Todd, noticing her look.

“Someone’s watching us,” she said, and a hush fell over the rest of them.

“Well,” Dirk said. “Let’s go meet this yellow triangle person, shall we?”

-

The house remained quiet for a long moment after Dirk had rung the doorbell. Then there was the muffled closing of a door, the sound of footsteps, another moment of silence, and then the audible _clicks_ of locks being unlocked.

The door opened slowly inward, and for a moment all they could see was a dark, empty hallway. Then a young, pale man appeared from behind the door. His dark eyes widened the second the spotted Dirk, and Dirk was not easy to miss. “ _You_?”

“ _Me?”_ Dirk sputtered. “ _You! You’re_ yellow triangle person?”

“Yellow triangle--” the man stared at him. “You mean-- It’s a _tent_. A tent emoji. Do you-- Do you not know emojis?”

“Oh, of _course_ ,” Dirk sighed. “ _Tent_ ative. _Clever._ That makes sense, because you’re-- You’ve got the weird--” he smiled to himself, then seemed to realize who he was talking to again. “Uhm, _no_ , I’m sorry, I was too busy running from the _government prison for psychics that imprisoned me for a good chunk of my life_ to learn about _emojis_ , thank you. You of all people should know about that.”

Beside her, Gripps and Cross shifted, and Farah glanced over in time to catch them moving in to what she could only describe as fighting stances -- feet planted slightly wider, knees bent just slightly, and Gripps lowered the lollipop he’d taken from the candy jar on the Agency’s desk from his mouth. They eyed the Blackwing agent warily.

“What are you--” Todd’s eyes widened. “ _Blackwing_?” One of the Rowdies snarled. “He’s Blackwing?”

“Was!” The man said quickly, eyes widening in abject fear as he seemed, for the first time, to take in the fact that it wasn’t just Dirk at his door. “I-- I _was_ Blackwing -- _with_ Blackwing I mean -- until the… Well,” he made an attempt at an apologetic smile that looked more like a nervous twitch to Farah, and when he continued his voice was a pitch higher. “Until the, uh, knights.”

“The Kellum knights?” Farah asked, looking to Dirk and Todd, and they nodded.

“Dirk?” Todd tried, bending around Dirk to be able to get a good look at the mousy man at the door. “Who-- Who is this?”

“ _This_ ,” the detective said, “is Lieutenant Assistent.”

Todd blinked at Assistent, and Assistent blinked back. “Your _name_ is Assistent?”

“I-- yeah. Michael Assistent. And I’m-- I’m not a lieutenant anymore. Blackwing _fired_ me, you know.”

He was met with unimpressed stares, and finally Gripps spoke, “You’re lucky you didn’t get actual fired.”

“They tried fire,” Cross agreed. “But the chilly stuff worked better.”

“Knocked us right out,” Gripps said solemnly. “But you’d know.”

Assistent paled, and Farah got the feeling he _did_ know, and she could barely control the anger that threatened to bubble up. She had to remain calm. Collected. _Someone_ had to.

“Yes, that was an interesting time,” Dirk finally said, after a very uncomfortable silence that dragged on too long for anyone’s liking. “Are you going to let us in, or what?”

“Am I--?” Assistent stared at him blankly for a moment, then blinked fast and nodded, nearly tripping over his own feet in his scramble to open the door and make room to let them through at the same time.

Farah was a little concerned by how calm Dirk seemed, faced as he was with one of the people that had kept him locked up. He _seemed_ calm, at least. Dirk hadn’t exactly been an open book about the whole thing, and, really, the man ushering them into the small, dark apartment seemed more mousy and clumsy and _exactly_ like the type of man who built elaborate play structures for his pet hamster than the type of man who would torture would-be psychics.

Then again, maybe that was the sort of person who was attracted to a job at a secret government agency. What conspiracy nut would pass up the chance? And conspiracy nut was definitely the correct nomenclature. As they made their way through the short hallway and into the main living area, Farah was very nearly overwhelmed by the sheer amount of _stuff_ that was everywhere. Every shelf or, really, any flat surface -- including the top of the large hamster cage that stood on a table -- was covered with books and documents and print outs and newspapers, and an entire wall was lined with paper -- newspaper clippings, photos, more print outs. A large rolling whiteboard stood in the middle of the room, facing an elaborate computer set up with more screens than anyone who was close to sane would need.

Farah was intrigued.

“This is ridiculous,” said Todd. “This was a mistake. We should go. Dirk? Farah?” He hesitated. “Cross, Gripps?”

The two Rowdies hummed and nodded in response, but something caught Farah’s eye, causing her to pause by some of the newspaper clippings. “Wait,” she said softly, repeating the word a little louder when the others still seemed determined to leave. ” _Wait_! There’s something here.”

“There’s-- _Yes_ , that’s what I’m trying to say!” Assistent said, moving to stand beside her, casting furtive glances at the two leather clad Rowdies as he did. They growled at him but let him by.

“Here,” Farah said, jabbing a finger at one of the bits of newspaper. “And here. Blue light, just like you two said there was at the beach.”

“Wait,” said Dirk, now moving in as well. “ _Wait a minute_ , that insurance fraud case…”

“The missing meteorite?” said Todd.

“Yes!” Dirk said. “Yes, a flash of blue light, and no signs of forced entry.”

“So things are disappearing in a flash of blue light?” Todd asked slowly, then widened his eyes at Dirk. “You know what this means.”

“It’s not--” started Farah.

“ _Aliens,_ ” Dirk said. “Yes, it _has_ to be.”


	7. Chapter Six

“For the _millionth_ time,” Farah said, pinching the bridge of her nose. “It’s _not aliens_.”

They were sitting and standing around a tiny dining table in a decidedly cramped kitchen that was definitely not made for six people. Cross and Gripps had taken to standing on either side of Dirk, who seemed, for the first time, not to be uncomfortable around them. Then again, Farah noted, the two men were glaring and muttering things at Assistent, who sat awkwardly on the very edge of a rickety chair, glancing over at them every so often.

“Why are you so convinced it’s not aliens, Farah?” asked Todd, sitting on the countertop. “We’ve seen weirder shit. We were in an _alternate dimension_!”

“An alternate dimension from the mind of a child. From earth. An earth child.”

“Ish,” said Dirk.

“What?”

“Earth _ish_. Francis was found by the Cardenases in a boat that just suddenly appeared. Who knows where he came from? For all we know, he could be an alien.”

“It doesn’t make sense that an alien would look _exactly_ like a human, Dirk. That’s not how evolution works.”

“Yeah,” said Cross. “Cause he’s _Canadian_.”

“Canada has boats,” Gripps agreed.

“Isn’t…” Assistent said carefully, peering over at the two Rowdies before shifting his gaze to look at Dirk. “Isn’t Project Moloch--”

“Francis.”

“--Isn’t Francis from Montana?”

“Yes, but the boat doesn’t very well have to be, does it?” Dirk snapped back at him.

“Guys?” Todd said, breaking the awkward silence that followed. “Are you seeing this?”

That drew everyone’s attention to the tiny TV sitting on the counter, which was showing a local news report. The volume was turned down, but no one missed the scrolling text at the bottom.

_\-- Mysterious unidentified skull stolen from Natural History Museum -- Eye witness accounts describe flash of blue light before the skull disappeared -- Unidentified skull has remained enigma for years -- Thought to be missing link in evolution --_

“Wait, is this live?” Assistent said, jumping up to turn up the volume.

“That’s what it says,” said Farah.

“We should go there,” Dirk said quickly. “See if we can find any… clues.”

“ _Clues_?” Todd laughed. “Dirk, you don’t do clues. You told me so the first time we met.”

“Yes, well.” Dirk frowned, suddenly closed off. “Desperate times call for desperate measures.”

“Wish we had the van, man,” Gripps muttered.

“We’ve got the amboolents,” said Dirk quickly. “We’ll take that.”

“Ain’t the _van_ , though,” Cross added sullenly.

“Can I--” Assistent began, but Dirk pushed past him.

“Yes, you can come. But you’re paying for your own entrance ticket.”

“That’s fine, I have a year pass.”

“Yes, well, you’re a huge _nerd_ , aren’t you?” Dirk huffed, and led the others out of the kitchen.

Todd rushed after him, and Farah could hear him ask Dirk, “But it isn’t really desperate times, is it? You can find Amanda?”

 

\-------

 

It felt like they’d walked for an hour before they’d reached the point where the ever-shifting blue light above them curved down and met the ground, or the floor, or whatever it was they were walking on in the backstage of reality. Amanda guessed that maybe the ground curved up to meet the light, too, since she felt like she’d been walking uphill for a better part of that hour. It had been almost meditative, the slow plodding of the cow, Cinnamon, beside her, accompanied by the gentle cooing sounds that Beast made as she sat atop the animal. Friedkin had attempted to make conversation once or twice, but had been swiftly dissuaded by Vogel’s threats of tearing off his face and feeding it to Cinnamon.

Now, though, Cinnamon was happily chewing away on the pile of grass that Friedkin had, quite literally, pulled out of the blue swirling mass at the edge of the backstage of reality. Amanda was relieved, but also a little scared, to see that it _did_ look easy. What else could Friedkin do from here?

Besides kidnap them, she supposed.

“So you can just… grab whatever you want?” she asked, breaking the silence.

“Yes! Well.” Friedkin paused, an odd-looking skull halfway out of the blue swirling mess. “Most everything. Some things are harder to get.” He gave the skull a good pull, and it came loose from the shifting light. “Like that dang _gun_.”

“ _Hey,_ man,” Vogel said, jumping to stand in front of Amanda. “You don’t need no freaking _gun_ , man! Do we gotta fight you? Smash you up? Eat you for dinner?”

“It’s not that kind of gun!” Friedkin said quickly. “It’s an _air_ gun. It shoots, like, _air_. It’s at your dumb stupid agency or something but it’s, like, in a closet or something and I can’t get to it easily.”

“Why not just move the whole closet?” Vogel said, frowning.

Friedkin stared at him. “The…” His eyes widened, and he jabbed a finger in Vogel’s direction. “The closet! You’re a genius!” He rushed over to wrap Vogel in a tight hug, then let go and turned back to the blue swirling light, leaving a rather confused Vogel.

“Hey,” Amanda said, pulling both him and Martin aside with her, just out of Friedkin’s earshot. “Hey, is it true what you said, that you’re hungry? Do I need to see if I can trigger an attack or something?”

“You ain’t gotta feed us, ‘Manda,” Martin said, and his expression was thoughtful. “I don’t think.”

“What do you mean?”

“This place…” He raised a hand until he was nearly touching the shifting lights. “It smells like, well…” He rubbed the back of his neck.

“Smells like you, ‘Manda,” Vogel said, nodding vigorously. “Like when you go all whack!”

Amanda considered this for a moment. It… made _sense_ , she supposed. The blue light wasn’t different from the weird light shit that happened when the Rowdies fed on energy. And this was _all_ energy. “So you can feed on this place?”

“Think so,” Martin replied. He closed his eyes and breathed in. Tendrils of blue light reached for him from the shifting wall that curved before them. Vogel joined him, and Amanda watched with fascination as the two fed. She had never actually seen them feed before, had always been the food and had, in those moments, always been a little more preoccupied with the blinding pain that she usually experienced.

This… this was oddly beautiful. Her boys looked otherworldly, bathed in that blue light. Almost angelic, with their arms outspread behind them like wings.

Her grimy punk angels. Amanda smiled.

Someone tugged on her arm, and Amanda turned to find Beast. She seemed as awestruck by the feeding Rowdies as Amanda was, and the peace Amanda had felt for a moment dissipated and made way once more for anger. How dare that Blackwing lackey tell them Beast had to stay _here_ of all places? She was part of the Rowdy 3, and if she couldn’t leave, none of them would.

But then they wouldn’t be reunited with Cross and Gripps, either.

Surely there was a way to convince Friedkin, or the freaking _universe_ , that Beast could go back with them? That she _belonged_?

A thought tugged at her. An idea.

“I’ll be right back,” she told Beast, and broke out into a run back to where they’d arrived. Back to the van... and the wand.


	8. Chapter Seven

“Here we are,” Farah said, pulling into the parking lot of the natural history museum. It was a majestic building, and if she wasn’t so focused on the fact that they were driving with more occupants than they had seatbelts, and that there were still very much missing people, and they were about to enter an active crime scene, Farah would have taken a moment to admire the architecture. All she had time for now, though, was to note that not a single window was broken.

“Can we just… walk in?” Todd asked, leaning forward to look through windshield at the museum entrance. The area was taped off and police were milling about.

“I’m sure we can. Let’s look out back, shall we?” Dirk declared, not waiting for a response as he exited the vehicle. Farah followed, but the other occupants took a little longer in detangling limbs and seatbelts. Six people seemed to be about maximum capacity.

“Finally,” Dirk said, peering around a corner while the rest of them caught up. “Things are going our way!”

“What? What’s going on?” Todd asked, and leaned in to look too. Farah followed suit, and saw what Dirk meant. A truck was parked by the service entrance. It seemed empty, and the service entrance door was propped open with a cardboard box.

When Dirk moved, the rest followed. They slipped into the entrance and up a rickety set of stairs without meeting anyone else. Farah would never stop being appalled by the way some places treated security. Of _course_ they were going to be burglarized if _this_ was how they went about things. Nevermind the fact that there was no blue light anywhere.

At least it gave her hope for this whole thing having nothing to do with aliens.

Somehow, Dirk led them through the maze of stairs and hallways that was the service area of the museum, and out onto the museum floor. There they were just in time to watch the backs of the last investigators disappear out the door so they could sneak unseen to the exhibit that had, until that afternoon, housed a mysterious, unidentified skull.

It was… rather anticlimactic.

“Yep, this is an empty display, alright,” Todd muttered, glancing up at Dirk. “What do you think, Dirk?”

“ _Well,_ I think, uhm…” Dirk frowned at the display. “ _I_ think… I definitely have thoughts. Yes. Uhm. Let’s see. The display case is _empty_ …”

“We can see that,” Gripps said drily, and Cross snorted.

“Yeah, boss. I don’t smell the others ‘round here. Why are we here?”

“Because there might be _clues_ \--” Dirk began.

“You don’t do clues,” Todd interjected, and Dirk breathed in sharply.

“Yes, I _know_ that, don’t I? It’s one of the first conversations I had with you, so you don’t have to _remind me_ that I have no idea how to solve this. How is _anyone_ supposed to solve this, Todd? _How_ ? It’s just… lights! Blue lights! That we haven’t actually _seen_ , but sure, other people have. It could be aliens, for all we know-- No, Farah, shut up, it _might be aliens_ , you don’t know it isn’t, and I don’t know it is, but it _might_ be, alright? Todd, I’m sorry, but I have no idea how to get your sister back. Cross? Gripps? I have _no_ idea where Amanda is, or where, where Martin is, or bibbi-- your rainbow friend is, alright? I _don’t know_! I don’t! The universe isn’t giving me _anything_! For all I know they’re all hanging out with that missing cow Tina has been going on and on about, alright? They’re all together just hanging out in… in _space_ or who knows where! I sure don’t! Because. I. Don’t. _Know!_ ”

There was a very long, very awkward silence as everyone stared at Dirk, punctuated only by a _ding_ from Assistent’s pocket.

“Dirk?” Farah tried carefully. “Are you… alright?”

Dirk made an exasperated noise and threw up his hands, and stormed off down the hall and out of sight.

The rest of them stood there, each of them varying degrees of shocked at Dirk’s outburst, until the silence was broken by Dirk’s voice in the distance. “Uhm, you guys? There’s… I think I may have found one of them.”

 

\-------

 

The van was still idling when Amanda reached it. She could hear that familiar rumble, the thumping music that was _home_ , before she was even close. It was a comforting sound, but it wasn’t quite _right_ without the laughs and jeers and general _noise_ the Rowdy 3 always made. It was too quiet, too still despite the thumping bass when Amanda climbed in the back and pulled out her duffel bag from under the seats.

Her hand closed around a long shape, wrapped in a few t-shirts that still needed to be washed. She tossed the shirts into the plastic bag she’d introduced as their laundry basket and carefully examined the the wand, its blue crystal shimmering in the little light that came in from outside.

If she was right.

If this could work.

Then maybe Beast could come back with them after all.

But she had to be _sure_.

She hadn’t really taken the time to figure out how the wand worked, exactly. That evil witch queen Suzie had yelled spells, but if she was right, if the wand was more like a… a _battery_ for magic, then she wouldn’t need spells. She should just be able to _channel_ whatever was stored inside.

What _was_ stored inside, anyway?

Only one way to find out.

Amanda took in a deep breath, then turned the wand on herself, the crystal resting on her arm. And she focused. And she _pushed_.

It sort of felt like that one time she’d nearly electrocuted herself on Todd’s guitar amp, but it was short, and not really painful, but _odd_ , and-- oh, _fuck_ , she was bleeding. How was she bleeding? She gasped for air as the pain hit her, watching in a haze of confusion as the wound in her arm grew and grew and grew, blood spilling down and dripping onto the floor of the van. Fuck. _Fuck_. She sank to her knees. She needed… she needed a bandage.

She needed…

_Why was she bleeding?_

“Boss? Boss! In here!”

Blue light surged around her, and the pain subsided, slowly at first, then faster and faster until all there was left was an odd sort of prickle.

 

_“You don’t do clues!”  
_

_A flash of orange hair disappearing around a corner._

_Rocks and plants and skeletons, piles and piles of skeletons--_

_“What are you doing here?”_

_“Bibbit!”_

_Lights dancing on water, speeding past, faster and faster and faster and--_

_“What are you doing here?”_

_“What are you doing?”_

_“Boss, what are you doing?”_

 

Amanda’s eyes snapped open. She was laying on the floor of the van, the concerned faces of Martin and Vogel and Beast hovering over her. She sat up, all three of them helping her.

They were looking at her oddly.

“Bad shapes,” whispered Beast, pointing, and Amanda looked down. The blood was gone. Instead, a blotch of black with a single star in the middle had appeared on her arm, where she’d touched it with the wand.

“It’s okay,” Amanda croaked, then cleared her throat. “It’s okay, I’m okay. I think it works.”

“What works, Drummer?” Martin asked, sounding apprehensive.

Amanda fumbled around for the bottle of water that she kept somewhere around here, and took a long drink when she found it. An attack always took it out of her, but there was no time to rest. “I think I know how to take Beast back with us.” She stood, willing her legs to feel less like jell-o as she did, and put her hands on Beast’s shoulders. “You’ll have to trust me, okay? It’s going to be… It might be scary. But It’ll be okay. I saw-- I had a vision. You were okay, you were with Dirk! So it’ll be fine.”

Beast regarded her for a long moment, rainbow eyes searching hers, then nodded. “O-kee, Drummah.”

“You know what you’re doing?” Martin asked quietly.

“‘Course she does!” Vogel said, elbowing Amanda affectionately in the ribs. “‘Manda knows what to do! Right, boss? You’ll get us all home and back to Cross and Gripps!”

“Yeah,” Amanda said, hoping her voice sounded more confident than she felt. But it _had_ to work. “Yeah. I can do this. _We_ can do this. I’ll need your help.”

“What do y’need us to do, drummer?” Martin asked once Amanda had led them back outside.

“Don’t… don’t freak out, okay?” Amanda leveled her gaze to meet Martin’s glowing blue one. “I need you to trust me.”

“Always, Drummer.”

“Alright. Okay.” Amanda took a deep breath. “I need to use the wand on you, like that evil witch bitch in Wendimoor did.”

Martin and Vogel exchanged glances. They looked concerned, and it pained Amanda to see them like that. But she _had_ to do this. If her theory was correct… It _had_ to be correct. It would work.

It would work and they would all be fine and they could all go _home_ and they would all be together again.

“Okay,” Martin said finally. “Whatever you say.”

Amanda breathed out in relief. Part of her had expected them to say no, to refuse. She couldn’t blame them. Suzie had _hurt_ them, practically drained them of everything they had. But she wouldn’t.

“I need you to signal to me when it’s too much, okay? As soon as you feel tired, or, or _anything_ \--”

“We fed lots on the lights, boss,” Vogel said, nodding solemnly. “We can take it.”

That was what she was counting on. “Okay. Are you ready?”

They both nodded, and Amanda raised the wand, flexing her fingers around it. Feeling how it rested in her hand. The hum of magic was barely there. It felt empty, or as good as. Good. She didn’t need Wendimoor magic for this. She needed _everything is connected_ magic. A splash of the stream of creation.

She _pulled_.

Blue light surged from Vogel and Martin, and Amanda had to hold the wand in both hands just so she wouldn’t be pushed back by the force of the energy flowing into the wand. The crystal shone bright, a more brilliant blue than it had been before. Martin and Vogel growled and roared, but they didn’t signal, and Amanda held fast until she saw Vogel raise an arm. It took her a second to figure out how to _stop_ the flow, since the wand seemed eager to absorb as much energy as it could, but she succeeded, and she nearly tripped forward as she was thrown off balance by the sudden stop. Beast rushed over to check on her, and Amanda pulled her in for a hug. “We’re almost there, Beastie. Are you boys okay?”

“I feel fuzzy,” Vogel groaned, and Martin threw an arm around his shoulders.

“We’re good. Are you?”

“Yeah. We’re almost done.”

“I don’t doubt ya, Drummer, but what are you tryin’?” Martin asked as he ruffled Vogel’s hair.

“I have a theory,” Amanda said slowly. “And I think, I _think_ I’m right. You fed on the energy here, and I think, with the wand, I can channel that energy into Beast.”

“Is that what you were doing in the van on yourself?” Vogel asked, eyes wide.

“Yeah,” said Amanda, glancing down at her new tattoo. “And I think it worked. I think I absorbed some Wendimoor magic that was still in the wand.”

“So if Rainbow Monster absorbs glowy blue bullshit magic…” Martin said, eying Beast.

“She’ll be tied to the backstage of reality.” Amanda nodded.

“And nothin’s an anomaly here.” Martin raised his eyebrows. “‘Manda.” He jabbed a finger at her. “You’re one smart cookie.”

She grinned at him, trying to ignore how nervous she felt for the next step. It would be fine. It had to be. “Beast, are you ready?”

Beast jutted out her chin in a stubborn way and nodded solemnly. Amanda raised the wand, aimed it at her rainbow-haired friend... and _pushed_.


	9. Chapter Eight

“Dirk?” Todd called, and he and Farah exchanged a look, then broke out in a run down the hallway.

“We’re here!” Dirk’s voice echoed from around the corner, beyond a terrifyingly lifelike display of stuffed rhino heads.

 _“We_ _?”_ Farah asked in a low mutter, but Todd merely shrugged as if to say _it’s Dirk, he could’ve run into anyone_. A statement which was almost mind-bogglingly true. Contrary to what logic dictated, when Dirk was involved they could very well literally run into pretty much _anyone_. For all she knew, he’d found whoever had stolen the skull, or--

Todd stopped dead in his tracks, and Farah nearly slammed into him. “Is that--?”

 _“Hi_ _!”_ Dirk said brightly, attempting to raise an arm but failing to do so because said arm was being pinned against his torso by an enthusiastic hug. “Look who I found!”

“...Beast? How did--” A howl from behind them cut Farah off, and she whirled to find the Cross and Gripps bounding down the hallway like two human-ish wrecking balls, their energy apparently returned by the sight of their friend.

“BEASTIE!” Gripps roared, practically knocking over Dirk in his mad rush to hug Beast, picking the two of them up in a bearhug that didn’t discriminate. Cross joined him, the two of them holding Dirk and Beast up off the ground in an embrace that left little room for oxygen, if Dirk’s gasping complaints were anything to go by. Beast, on the other hand, was cackling in delight.

“Weather was crap without you, Rainbow,” said Cross, voice muffled by Beast’s hair. He sniffed. “You smell funny.”

“Funny haha or funny weird?” Gripps asked, then shifted to smell Beast as well. “Huh. _Weird_.”

“Can--” Dirk squeaked. “Can you put me _down?”_

“Sorry, boss,” Gripps muttered, and lowered them to the ground, where Dirk promptly became a mass of wildly flailing limbs in an effort to free himself as soon as possible. Beast let him go after a little protest, then wrapped her arms around Gripps instead.

“Uhm,” said Farah. “Beast? Are the others here too?”

“Yes!” Todd exclaimed, jabbing a finger in Farah’s direction. “Yes, is Amanda here?”

“Martin ‘n Vogel, did you see them?” Cross asked, straightening after having just sniffed Beast’s hair once more. Farah tried very hard not to seem too disturbed by this. There were probably…. reasons. Or _something_.

Beast shook her head, then nodded, then shook her head again. “Seens ‘em,” she said, hugging Gripps tighter. “Wit’ the fuzzy beastie ‘n the no-tees an’ the lights.” She frowned and pressed her face into Gripps’ side. “‘Manda gots the bad shapes,” she muttered. “‘n then poof zap pow!” She let go of Gripps in order to gesture wildly. “An’ now ‘ms hea.”

“‘ _Manda_ _?_ What’d she say about Amanda?” Todd asked, looking to Dirk for answers.

“Uhm,” said Dirk. “Right, I think she said--”

“Bad shapes?” Cross said, frowning. “What’d Drummer do?” He and Gripps exchanged a look, and their eyes widened. “The _wand_.”

“A _wand_ ?” Dirk echoed. “ _The_ wand?”

“Wait,” interjected Farah. “Do you mean _Suzie Boreton’s_ wand? Amanda has it?”

“I wondered where that went,” Dirk said slowly. “Did you say she used it? What happened?”

Beast shot him an unimpressed look. “Told ya, beauty boy. Fis’, ‘Manda made the bad shapes. Then,” she gestured again, “she went _poof zap pow!_ An’ now ‘ms hea.”

“ _Amanda_ brought you here?” Dirk asked, and Beast nodded.

“That’s our Drummer,” Cross said with a grin, but Todd seemed wholly unconvinced.

“She’s still _missing_ , you assho-- _ouch_ , Farah!” Todd rubbed his ribs.

“Stop trying to pick a fight,” Farah bit at him. “We’re on the same team.”

“Yes, we are!” Dirk chimed in, and Farah was happy to see he seemed a little more confident after the surprise discovery of the rainbow monster. “So, we need to work together. Beast, it’s _so_ good to have you with us today. I’m glad you could pop over from, uhm… Where did you say you were?”

“No trees and lots of lights,” Gripps said helpfully.

“Right. Yes. From someplace with no trees and lots of lights.”

“Do you think…” Todd began, then stopped himself.

“No, what, Todd? Tell us! Share with the team!” Dirk beamed, and the others looked at him expectantly.

“Okay, so, it’s probably nothing…” Todd said slowly.

“Stop trying to discredit yourself before you’ve even spoken, Todd,” Dirk said cheerily, patting him on the shoulder. “Out with it!”

Todd sent a withering look his way, but Farah was fairly sure he was smiling, at least a little bit. “Fine,” he said. “Okay. So, when we were in Wendimoor, and Amanda and I held the portal open--”

“ _Badly_ , if I might add,” Dirk muttered, ducking when Todd swiped at him.

“Hey, _shut up_ if you want me to talk, man! As I was saying. When we were holding the portal open, Amanda pulled us out of our bodies, and into this weird dark place with a bunch of lights above it. The _backstage of reality_. What if that’s what Beast means? That’s where they were?” He raised his eyebrows at Beast, whose eyes had gone as wide as saucers as she nodded, jumping and pointing at him.

“Lotsalights! Lotsalights!”

“The backstage of reality?” Assistent said, and Dirk nearly jumped.

“I forgot you were _here_ . Jesus, man, _warn_ us or _something_!”

“I--” Assistent blinked at him. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine,” said Farah, glancing around the group. “How do we get to the backstage of reality? Todd, do you know?” Todd shook his head, but Dirk had begun walking down the hallway, back to where they’d come from. “Dirk?” Farah called. “Do you?”

“I have no clue!” Dirk called back, not bothering to slow down. “But I highly doubt it’s here in this museum!”

“Where’d Rainbow go?” Cross asked, and Farah turned, finding that Beast had indeed disappeared.

“Didn’t she go after Dirk?” She asked, but Gripps shook his head.

“Didn’t see her go. Think she just disappeared,” he said, tapping a finger to his chin.

“I mean, she probably went after Dirk. It's not like she can suddenly teleport or anything,” Todd said. His grin faltered when he saw Cross seemingly consider the possibility.

“Well,” Farah said quickly, either to nip any potential alien discussion in the bud, “She’s not here, so let’s follow Dirk.”  


\-------  


“Where’d she _go_ , boss? Where’s rainbow monster?” Vogel sounded panicked, practically vibrating with frantic energy as he tugged on Amanda’s arm.

“Was…” Martin began slowly, “was this part of the plan, drummer?”

Amanda had a sneaking suspicion that Martin’s current calmness was very much a result of sheer willpower and trust in her abilities, and her stomach was twisting itself in knots at the thought that maybe, maybe that trust was unfounded.

But it wasn’t. It couldn’t be. She’d _seen_ Beast in her vision. She was okay. _Somewhere_.

 _Dirk was there_.

If Dirk was there, it would all come together somehow.

It just had to.

So Amanda pulled her thoughts together, told her stomach to stop being a brat, and nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, this is part of the plan. Now let’s go.”

“Where we goin’?”

Amanda nodded at the van. “Out of here. The only way there is.”

“Do you wanna bring the food, boss?” Vogel asked, poking at a neat stack of fruit-covered pancakes on a plate that Amanda thought she recognized, but wasn’t sure what from.

They did look _good_.

And she was pretty hungry.

“Yeah, okay, bring ‘em,” she said, and Vogel snatched up a full plate and a set of cutlery rolled up into a napkin, setting them neatly down in the van before climbing in and slamming the door shut. The rattle that followed made Amanda think that maybe the breakfast foods wouldn’t survive the trip.

Then again, she wasn’t fully convinced _they_ would.

Only one way to find out.

Martin settled in the passenger’s seat without a question. He seemed to understand that Amanda had a plan, though, as she took place in the driver’s seat, she wondered if he had an inkling of how much of a plan it was. Now that she thought about it, he could probably smell the doubt, or something. Either way, she appreciated him not commenting on it.

Amanda put on her seatbelt, sticking out her tongue at Martin’s raised eyebrows. “Safety first, asshole,” she said, earning her a grin and a _whatever ya say_ , _drummer girl_.

Right. Focus.

She took a deep breath, then hit the gas.

It almost felt like the van had been waiting for this moment. The engine roared in agreement, the van accelerated swiftly and smoothly. Vogel and Martin whooped and howled, and Amanda felt a calm wash over her. This was where she was meant to be. This was _home_. All that was missing was a few passengers.

But she’d find them soon enough.

The van roared through the vast and empty backstage, past the scattered items that littered the place, past Cinnamon, who had wandered away from Friedkin again. Within minutes, Amanda saw the swirling blue sky slope down ahead of her, could see Friedkin’s silhouette in the distance. He waved, then began to move more frantically, but Amanda didn’t change course. Finally, he jumped out of the way, very nearly tripping over what looked a lot like the supply closet from the Agency, and then the van drove into the swirling blue light. 

The growl of the engine dropped to a low purr, but the van kept moving at a breakneck pace as lights flashed by outside the windows. Her skin _fizzed_. It wasn’t so much painful, but it wasn’t pleasant either, and Amanda found herself gritting her teeth to try to push through the sensation. A hand covered her white-knuckled grip, and she looked over to find Martin nodding at her encouragingly. His eyes flashed to their normal colour, then back to the glowing blue, then back again, as if someone kept switching a light bulb off and on and off and on and off and on, but his reassurance was enough to allow Amanda to breathe in deep and focus on their surroundings.

All she could see through the windshield was blue light, bright and blinding. It wasn’t until her eyes were a little more used to the glare that Amanda realized it _wasn’t_ just blue light. Here and there, she recognized images shifting in the light. They moved too fast to be able to make out, but there were millions, maybe even _billions_ of them, like layers upon layers upon layers of visions, and just when she thought she was able to make out something -- a face, a building -- a shout from Vogel called her attention away.

“We’re _flying_! FLYING!” he yelled, jumping up from his seat to wiggle his way between the two front seats, bumping into Amanda’s arm.

Sure enough, when Amanda looked out the side window, she realized the blue shifting lights weren’t surrounding the van completely anymore. Below her, the light shifted and swirled differently. It _flowed_ , and a moment later she realized it was water. The wheels of the van very nearly skimmed the surface, but Vogel was right. They were _flying_ , flying over some large body of water. Above them, stars were sprinkled across the swirling blue light.

“Birds ain’t got _nothing_ on us,” Vogel said, grinning, and clambered over Martin to press his face to the windshield. “Land ho!”

“Land?” Martin leaned forward to peer out into the distance. “How ‘bout that! Looks like a beach in the distance.”

“Shit. _Shit_ ,” Amanda laughed. The fizzing in her skin gradually ebbed away, giddiness taking its place. “Are we… _Shit_! We’re actually flying over the _ocean_.” She looked down at the steering wheel and whispered a wide-eyed _what the fuck_.

“Look, it’s a fire! There’s a fire on the beach! Just like we make!”

“Looks a helluva lot like our beach,” Martin muttered. “Well, shit.”

Amanda glanced over at him. “What?”

“Drummer, I think… I think that _is_ our beach. And our fire.”

She glanced at him again, then ahead, then back out the window, at the dancing speck of light that was definitely a bonfire. “ _What?_ ”

“Yeah!” Vogel said. “See, up there? That’s where we park the-- _HEY!_ That’s the van! Up there! That’s the _van_! Those-- That’s Cross and Gripps! That’s the _guys!_ We found them, boss!”

Amanda stared at him, then back out the window, not even bothering with looking where they were going anymore. “The _fuck?_ ”

“It’s the _guys!_ ” Vogel laughed, waving at the beach as they sped past. Amanda watched it pass, hoped that they weren’t supposed to go there. She wasn’t sure how this whole thing worked, but she guessed going to the same place she -- _past her_ \-- already was, wasn’t the best plan.

Besides, she was a little scared to alter the course of the van, seeing as how they were still _flying across the fucking water_.

They watched out the window as two figures by the fire stood, as light flashed atop the outcropping where the van was parked--

Blue light flashed all around them, and the steering wheel jerked violently out of Amanda’s hands, and her ears rang and her skin _burned_ , and she ducked, braced herself for… for _something_ \--

A _thump_ and the sudden roar of tires finding traction on a surface, and the van growled with them, and the music thumped, and Amanda grabbed the steering wheel and pulled hard to avoid a collision with a street lantern. Next she knew, they were tearing into a mostly deserted parking lot, and Amanda hit the brakes just in time to avoid running straight into a group of people just leaving a large, stately building.


	10. Chapter Nine

“Beastie! How’d you get here, huh? ‘Manda teach you some witchakookoo crap?” Cross asked as they came into the entrance hall of the museum. Beast and Dirk were waiting at the bottom of the stairs, and it looked like the police had cleared out.

“She was here when _I_ got here. I have no idea how she did it,” Dirk said. “Didn’t you say she… _smelled_ different?”

“Smells like she’s us, but not us, you know?” Gripps said as he made his way down the stairs.

“I…” Dirk’s eyebrows knitted together. “I _don’t_ , actually, but--”

“Like us, man,” Cross chimed in. “Like you, an’ the guys, an’ Drummer. _You_ know!”

“Do you mean to say,” Dirk said slowly, looking over at the rainbow-haired Beast who was crouched on the floor, looking towards the exit. She reminded Farah a lot of a cat who seemed to be staring at something no one else could see. “That Beast is…” He gestured vaguely. _“Holistic_?”

“One of the freaks, yeah!” Cross whooped, and Dirk paled.

“I’m not a--”

“Wait,” said Assistent. “Are you trying to say that she _became_ … special? Like, she wasn’t before, but now she… is?”

The words were barely out of his mouth when Cross and Gripps flew at him, shoving him in one direction and then another and getting up in his face. Assistent threw up his hands and crossed them in front of his chest, and Farah couldn’t help but feel it odd that he wasn’t protecting his face.

“Don’t go gettin’ any ideas, _Blackwing_ ,” Gripps growled.

“Yeah, mister bogeyman, you leave her alone,” said Cross, jabbing a finger at Assistent’s chest.

“I’m not… I didn’t mean… Please don’t hurt Charlie,” Assistent stammered, practically cowering in fear.

Cross narrowed his eyes at him. “The hell’s a Charlie?”

“It’s his _hamster_ ,” Dirk said, and Assistent nodded quickly.

“She’s, uhm, I’ve got her here, and… please don’t hurt her?”

Cross leaned over to say something to Gripps, and they spent a moment discussing something in a hushed whisper. Finally, both straightened. “Show us the, uh… _Charlie_.”

Assistent stared at them for a long moment, then extracted a furry, sleeping lump from his breast pocket. The hamster shifted, but remained curled up as Assistent held it out so the Rowdies could see.

“This,” Cross said seriously, pointing at the hamster, “is a hamster?”

“Sleepy lil’ dude,” said Gripps, reaching for Charlie, and Assistent paled, practically trembling with fear, but didn’t move his hand away. Gripps seemed completely oblivious to his fear, and very gently stroked a single finger over the hamster’s fur. He smiled softly, and Farah realized what Amanda saw in these strange men. They were chaotic and unpredictable and definitely strange, but they were also honest, and kind in their own way, and she was beginning to appreciate their company.

Even if she didn’t actually _need_ more chaos in her life.

She got it, anyway.

Suddenly, Cross and Gripps were running for the doors, past a surprised security guard who did nothing to stop them. Beast bounded after them, jumping on Gripps’ back mid-stride, which didn’t slow him down in the slightest..

Farah, Dirk, Todd and Assistent exchanged confused glances, then ran after them.

-

They were barely out the revolving doors and reunited with Cross and Gripps and Beast when the furious roar of an engine made Farah nearly jump out of her skin. Barely a second later, the van came to a screeching halt before them, the duct-taped bumper giving Gripps the gentlest of nudges.

“Holy _shit,_ ” Todd said, and stared at the growling, thumping van. “Holy _shit_!”

Cross and Gripps whooped and hollered as the van door slid open and out jumped the youngest of the Rowdy 3. _Vogel_ , that had to be Vogel, Farah thought. And if Vogel was there, then, surely, Amanda..?

The passenger’s side opened, and the tall, blonde Rowdy -- _Martin_ \-- stepped out, to be immediately tackled by the rest of the Rowdy 3 as five of its members greeted each other with cheers and shouts and physical violence.

“Hey, assholes, don’t start the mosh pit without me.”

A moment of silence fell as the driver’s side door opened, and Farah caught a glance of Amanda before she, too, was engulfed in grimy, leatherclad bodies and wrapped up in multiple hugs at the same time.

“Let me-- Dammit-- Get out of the _way_ \--” Todd pushed and shoved at the Rowdies until they reluctantly made way for him.

“Hey, bro,” Amanda grinned at him, pulling her jacket straight again. “What’s up?”

Todd stared. “What’s-- Shit, sis, you were, like, _missing_! Where the fuck where you?”

“Was it--” Dirk began.

“--The backstage of reality?” Amanda finished, a twinkle in her eye, and Dirk beamed. “I knew you’d probably figure it out somehow. What happened while we were gone?”

“ _Well_ ,” said Dirk, and Farah recognized that tone. This was his _I’m going to explain everything_ tone, and Farah was glad for it. If she was honest with herself, she barely understood what had been going on, and she prayed she wasn’t the only one.

It looked like she wasn’t. The rest of them fell silent and moved to crowd in a half-circle around Dirk, eagerly anticipating his explanation.

“ _Well_ ,” he said again, a frown tugging at his features. He seemed to realize it, because he shook his head and smiled broadly once more. “Well…”

“Do you have _any_ idea what happened?” Assistent said, unhelpfully. The full force of the Rowdy 3 glared at him, as did Farah and Todd. A _ping_ sounded from Assistent’s pocket just as he opened and closed his mouth, and then muttered a _sorry_.

Todd glared harder.

“Of _course_ I do,” said Dirk. “These fine gentlemen, Cross and Gripps, was it? Well, _they_ saw the van and Amanda, Martin, Vogel and Beast disappear in a flash of blue light.”

“Right,” said Todd.

“Right. And then, uh, our breakfast disappeared, because…” Dirk gestured vaguely, frowning.

“Wait,” said Amanda. “What did you have for breakfast?”

“Pancakes,” said Farah. “Why--?”

“Oh, I think Friedkin stole those.”

Heads swiveled to stared at her. “ _Friedkin_?” Dirk and Asisstent said in unison.

“ _Hugo_ Friedkin?” Assistent asked.

“Yeah,” said Amanda with a shrug. “He said he got us breakfast. Probably stole yours.”

“That… strangely enough explains a few things,” Dirk said slowly, then shook his head. “ _Wait_ , Hugo Friedkin is dead. I saw him get _stabbed_!”

Amanda shrugged again. “Said some dude pushed him into a portal-- Oh. _Oh_. Do you think that’s--?”

“The portal you made to transport Mona, Francis Cardenas, and me back to Wendimoor? Possibly. It must have gone wonky, or something,” Dirk mused. “So. Hugo Friedkin, who is _not_ dead, stole our breakfast…”

“And the van,” Vogel pointed out. “And us!”

“Are…” Assistent said, his voice small. “Are we talking about the same Friedkin? _Hugo_ Friedkin?”

“Yeah, I think the universe may be, uh,” Amanda wiggled her fingers ominously, “ _talking_ to him or some shit. I don’t know. He’s dumb, but he figured he had to, like, _repair the broken universe_.”

“That sounds…” Todd started.

“Fucked?” Amanda said. “Yeah, for real. Something about dimensional anomalies tearing the fabric of the universe? He wanted us to leave Beast with him.” The rest of the Rowdy 3 hissed and growled and mumbled in unison, all reaching out to pull Beast in for a hug at the same time. She didn’t seem to mind in the slightest. “But then we bound Beast to the energy of the universe by channeling magic from Suzie’s wand--”

“You did _what?_ ” Todd and Assistent stammered in unison.

“Yeah,” Amanda said matter-of-factly. “Martin and Vogel helped,” she added, and Vogel puffed out his chest proudly.

“So _that’s_ why she’s holistic now,” Dirk said.

“Is she?” Amanda raised her eyebrows. “Maybe that’s why she teleported out of there.”

“She _teleported_?” Assistent squeaked.

“That makes sense,” Farah added. “She kept disappearing and reappearing just now, inside, too.”

“Hey, Rainbow, way to go,” Martin grinned and high-fived Beast.

“Let’s see, what else?” Amanda tapped her chin. “Did you guys figure out that weird-ass airgun thing is missing, too?”

“The airgun is missing?” Todd and Dirk asked in unison, and grinned at each other.

“Yeah, probably the supply closet--”

“ _Evidence room_ ,” Dirk corrected her.

“--is missing too.”

“Wait, why?” Farah asked. The pieces were beginning to fall into place.

“Our friend _Hugo_ ain’t that great at that magic shit as our Drummer,” Martin said. “Said he couldn’t always, ah, _grab shit_ easily.”

“Hence Cinnamon,” Amanda added.

Farah raised her eyebrows. “Cinnamon?”

“The cow!” Vogel added helpfully, though it earned him only more confused stares.

“Yeah, Friedkin said she was a test run. That he was gonna put her back, but he liked the company,” Amanda said.

“So, what you’re _saying_ , is,” said Dirk. “There’s a cow. In the _backstage of reality_. Just… living there? With a former secret government agency supervisor… person?”

Amanda grinned. “Yeah. Crazy, right?”

“Weren’t Tina and Hobbs investigating a missing cow?” Farah said, and couldn’t help her smile when Todd’s eyes widened. Todd and Dirk and Amanda exchanged looks. “Yeah, okay,” Farah grinned. “ _Go on._ ”

“Everything…” Amanda said, eyes sparkling.

“Is _connected_ ,” Dirk and Todd finished, grinning as well.

“You are all _insane_ ,” Assistent whispered.

“So if Friedkin took you, and he took the pancakes, and the cow... then what about the skull, and the meteorite from the insurance fraud case?” Farah asked.

“There was a _bunch_ of crap just layin’ ‘round there,” Martin said. “Y’said a skull? Think he was workin’ on that.”

“So all of those things didn’t belong here?” Todd asked. “Like, what, they came from outer space, or something?”

“Or _something_ ,” Dirk agreed. “They must have come from other dimensions, like Wendimoor.”

“Then how many dimensions _are_ there?” Farah wondered. “I mean, we’ve seen _one_ \-- Wait, the Cardenas house?”

“Makes two, indeed,” Dirk said, and abruptly turned to Assistent. “ _Blackwing_. Did anything happen at Blackwing? Did...” he turned back to Amanda and the Rowdies. “You didn’t see the purple people eater, did you?”

Amanda blinked at him. “Uhm. _No_. I think. There was a lot of stuff laying around there.”

“You would have noticed,” Todd said glumly, shuddering at the memory. “If Friedkin’s smart, he’ll leave that wherever the hell it is.”

“Oh, it’s at Blackwing,” said Assistent. “Or _was_ , I’m not sure. The rest went missing. The-- The knight’s armour? That’s why they fired me.”

"Amanda?" Dirk said. "One thing. If Friedkin practically kidnapped you, then how did you get _out_ of there?"

"We drove," Amanda said, grinning wide when the rest of them stared. "Yeah, we drove into the blue swirly energy shit, and then we were _flying--_ "

"We saw our house!" Vogel chimed in. "The beach house! It was night! _We were there!_ _"_

"Yeah, it was fucking _weird_ _._ We were, like, flying across the water, but in the past, and we could see the bonfire on the beach. What is it, Cross?" Amanda asked.

"Weird-ass blue lights. Remember, Gripps?" Cross nudged Gripps. "That night you guys were taken -- _poof_ , gone! There was blue lights on the horizon, over the water. That was you!"

Gripps whistled through his teeth, eyebrows raised. Another _ping_ sounded from Assistent’s pants, and Todd whirled around to face him. “Could you just, just... _check_ your damn phone? There’s _obviously_ someone trying to talk to you or… or _something_. Or just, like, put it on silence like a normal person!”

“Oh,” Assistent blinked owlishly before scrambling to extract his phone from the pocket of his jeans. “Sorry. It’s just Snapchat. I was just talking to--”

“Yeah, well, turn it _off_ ,” Todd snapped, crossing his arms over his chest and watching Assistent open up his notifications. There were _many_.

Assistent opened up the first conversation.

A dark background with just the text _how is charlie_? was followed by a snap of an idyllic, sunny beach and a snap of a beautiful blue sea, but when the next picture loaded Todd nearly choked.

“What is it?” Dirk asked as he moved so he could see the screen as well. “Holy _shit_ ,” he said, wide-eyed. “Farah. Farah, _look_.”

She did.

It was a selfie. A man lounging in a beach chair, but even with sunglasses on he looked _familiar_. It took her a second or two, and by then the image had disappeared and made place for a hand holding a cocktail with a little umbrella in it, but she finally realized who it was.

The police officer. From when Lydia had gone missing.

“Holy _shit_. You’re talking to _Estevez_?” Todd asked, and Assistent’s eyes widened.

 _“ _J_ oel _ Estevez?  Are you telling me I’ve been sending snaps to… to _Joel Estevez_? The police officer that Supervisor Friedkin--” He stared down at his phone, then back at the confused faces looking back at him. “I thought he was supposed to be _dead_. Oh, _oh_.”

“There, there,” Dirk said, patting Assistent on his shoulder before steering him to where the _amboolents_ was parked. “A friend of detective Estevez -- _Joel_ you said? _Really?_ \-- is a friend of ours, I guess. Sort of. As long as you’re not planning to tell Blackwing--”

“No, _no_ , nooo,” Assistent stammered. “No, I think-- I’m fairly sure they want me dead.”

“Well, as I always say, an enemy of Blackwing is a friend of mine,” Dirk said smugly. “Amanda?” he called over his shoulder as he walked off, Farah and Todd exchanging a bemused look before following him. “Meet you and the rest of the Rowdy 3 back at the Agency? Let’s get some food. Waffles? I’m thinking waffles.”

Amanda gave him a thumbs-up, and they piled into the van.


	11. Epilogue

Sunlight was pouring into the office when Farah walked in the next morning. The whole building was quiet -- well, as quiet as it could be with a pile of holistic punks snoring away in the middle of the room.

Farah rubbed her eyes as she made her way to the coffee maker and checked the time, only to find that it was near noon. They’d spent most of the night talking and catching up, and then the Rowdy 3 had devolved into drinking games that seemed to necessitate a lot of yelling, but she’d been pretty good at it, if she was honest with herself, and it _had_ been kind of fun. Assistent had left before that happened, but Farah vaguely remembered posing for a selfie with Dirk to send to the former Blackwing agent sometime after he’d left, so maybe that wasn’t the last they’d seen of him.

With the coffee machine rumbling contentedly, it was time for the most dreaded part of Farah’s morning. The Mona check. She leaned back against the counter and looked around the room.

It was then that she noticed a folded note laying on top of the little television. Frowning, she retrieved it and unfolded it.

 _Hi Farah_ _,_ it read. _Cross and Gripps asked me to leave you a note to let you know what I have changed into, so you do not have to worry :) I am sorry you worried! :( Here is the note:_

_I am this note._

_xoxo Mona_

**Author's Note:**

> This couldn't have been finished without [intricatecakes](http://intricatecakes.tumblr.com) support. <3 A huge thank you to [everythingremainsconnected](http://everythingremainsconnected.tumblr.com), [hubcaphalo](http://hubcaphalo.tumblr.com) and [flightinflame](http://flightinflame.tumblr.com) for beta-reading as well!


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